


Coffee Shops & College Flops

by spacestationtrustfund



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-03-29 04:42:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 24,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3882730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacestationtrustfund/pseuds/spacestationtrustfund
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Minho is failing—at everything. As a college freshman, roommates with his best friend Thomas, he has more in his life than he can handle. He can’t go a day without his morning cup of coffee, which he always gets from the same coffee shop before classes. One day, Minho notices there’s a new barista working there—one who’s decidedly cute, even if he has a habit of spelling Minho’s name wrong (come on, it isn’t that hard to spell, not really) every time Minho asks for a venti macchiato. But Minho has other things to focus on, like the way his world is falling apart at the seams. He can’t afford to fall in love right now—but falling in love might be just what happens.</p><p>***<br/>His life is such a fail right now, he can’t even begin to imagine what it would be like without Thomas helping. Not that Thomas has such an easy life either—they’re both college freshmen and both failing most of their classes. And Thomas is always there—but right now, it’s Tuesday, and Minho doesn’t have the time for annoying baristas, no matter how cute they are.</p><p>He needs coffee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Why am I even writing TMR I'm not in this fandom any more why

 

**January 2 nd, 7:48 am**

The bell rings as Minho pushes it open, trying to hold his phone in one hand and walk to the counter so that he can order his coffee, because he can’t survive without his coffee, and he’s been having a pretty shitty week.

“Thomas, I _know_ we have that paper due for Bio on Wednesday, did the teacher say how long it had to be?”

“You weren’t in class, you idiot, why do you think I should tell you anything about it?” says Thomas over the phone.

“I need this, my grades suck, and I was out—dude, listen, I’m at the coffee shop—”

“Can I take your order?”

Minho looks up, still trying to keep the phone to his ear. The boy standing in front of him looks hardly older than Minho himself, with blond hair and big blue eyes that dart nervously around as Minho stares at him. The boy colours obviously, rubbing his face with his hand. “Are you planning on ordering, or are you going to talk on the phone with your boyfriend all day?” His voice has an odd lilt to it, a sort of accent Minho can’t place in his scattered brain at the moment, but it sounds nice.

“Um, yeah—Thomas, hold on—I’ll have a—a—” And he stops, because what does he want? He can’t even focus on what he’s doing, and the whole time that guy is staring at him with a secret little smirk on his (admittedly adorable) face, and for some reason it annoys Minho more than it should. “I’ll have a — a venti macchiato, and a good one too.” He pulls out a few crumpled bills from his wallet, hearing Thomas laughing in his ear, and shoves them at the boy. “Keep the change. Name’s Minho.”

Minho turns and walks to a table, where he drops his bag onto the edge of the chair with a groan and returns his attention to the phone conversation with his best friend. “Thomas, I’m back—please man, I need to pass this class or I’m fucked.”

“It’s five pages, and the topic can be whatever you want, but argue a strong point,” says Thomas reluctantly. “I’ll lend you my notes later.”

“Okay, great, thanks a lot,” says Minho, impossibly relieved. His life is such a fail right now, he can’t even begin to imagine what it would be like without Thomas helping. Not that Thomas has such an easy life either—they’re both college freshmen and both failing most of their classes. And Thomas is always there—but right now, it’s Tuesday, and Minho doesn’t have the time for annoying baristas, no matter how cute they are.

He needs coffee.

A cute girl is sitting next to him, typing away on her laptop, with a half-eaten muffin next to her. Minho hangs up without even telling Thomas good-by. He needs a good shock, something to bring him back to reality. He can flirt with this girl. She’s pretty hot, and Minho is used to flirting with people.

He leans over so that he can look at what she’s doing. “Writing something?” he asks.

The girl looks up, startled; when she sees Minho she softens. He can actually see her beginning to melt, and it’s such a satisfying feeling. He has so little control over his life. “Yeah, stupid paper for English. I’m Brenda, by the way, and you are . . . ?”

“Minho,” says Minho smoothly. “English, huh? Smart _and_ hot.”

Brenda blushes at that. “Thanks. What about you?”

“Me, I’m boring,” says Minho, “lots of hanging around coffee shops and hoping my paper for Bio doesn’t suck. You get out much?”

“No,” admits Brenda, swivelling around in her chair to face him. “No one likes me, for some reason.”

“Their loss,” says Minho quietly. She blushes again and adds, “I don’t think even I would date myself, so don’t act like that.”

“Your standards must be impossibly high, then,” says Minho confidently, and she turns even redder. Minho isn’t really that attracted to this girl—he isn’t really into girls, unless they’re really hot—but there’s something satisfying about flirting and watching the person start to like you. It isn’t that he likes to break people’s hearts, but Minho is somewhat scared of commitment. Thomas is the same, and that’s why they’re best friends.

“Minho?”

It’s the barista from before, with Minho’s coffee; he looks around until he sees Minho and holds up the cup. With a wink at Brenda, Minho goes to get his coffee—thank god, he can start the day now—without even looking at it. It’s only when he returns to the table does he notice what that asshole barista has written instead of his name—minnow.

Well, it’s an easy mistake, he reasons, but he still wants to punch the guy. Although—you have to give him some sort of credit. The coffee is done perfectly, just the way he likes it. Not too much sugar or cream, but enough for him. Almost as if Barista Dude knew what he liked. Minho allows himself a small laugh as he pulls out his phone and calls Thomas.

“Hey, Minho, what is it this time?”

“Dude, I have my coffee now—”

“Oh, so I don’t have to worry about you killing me? Okay, that’s good to know.”

“Very funny.” Minho shifts the phone to his other ear; the cup looks innocuously up at him. “But the fucking barista spelled my name wrong, and I swear to god he did it on purpose.”

“How’d he spell it?”

“Minnow—like the fucking fish.”

“Well, did you tell him how to spell it?” Minho can hear the laughter thinly disguised in his best friend’s voice, and it irritates him even more. Thomas is supposed to be on his side, not the side of that ridiculous(ly cute) barista _jerk_.

“For god’s sake Thomas, it isn’t that hard to spell,” moans Minho.

“Just tell him he spelled it wrong.”

“I can’t,” says Minho, “or he’ll know he’s—got to me.”

“Seriously?”

“Come on, man!” complains Minho. “Anyway, my life sucks. Hope you’re well.” He hangs up abruptly again, shoving the phone back in his pocket.

“Is something wrong?” asks Brenda, looking concerned. Minho glances at her. She’s still cute, but somehow he can’t bring himself to flirt. Not right now.

“My boyfriend is a dick,” Minho lies easily. “But we’ll work it out. Thank you for the concern.” And he stands up, deliberately ignoring Barista Dude, who is looking over at him again, and takes his perfect venti macchiato as he leaves the shop.


	2. Chapter 2

**January 9 th, 7:34 am**

When Minho walks in the door his eyes automatically go to Barista Dude, who’s standing behind the counter, laughing at something one of the other employees has just said. Minho tries not to focus on how cute the guy looks when he’s laughing like that, because while he does need his coffee, he does not need trouble.

He pulls out his phone and calls Thomas again, who picks up immediately. “Minho, what is it this time?”

“I need your help,” says Minho. “There’s this cute barista at the coffee shop and I want to talk to him—what do I say?”

Thomas sighs. Minho hears the clicking of computer keys. “Aren’t you the master of seduction? Don’t ask me, I Minho, you can do this—just ask his name or something.”

“Hello—can I take your order?”

Minho looks up into the blue eyes of the barista and holds up one finger, turning away slightly in hopes his conversation won’t be overheard. “I can’t just do that kind of thing! He’ll think I’m a weirdo—”

“Minho, you _are_ a weirdo.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, dickhead,” says Minho, making no effort to hide the annoyance in his voice as he turns back to the counter. “I’ll have a venti macchiato—name’s Minho.”

“Yeah, I remember you from before,” says the barista, with a private little smirk that annoys Minho, but that he also (weirdly enough) finds somewhat attractive. “I’m Newt, by the way—it’s a nickname, but you know.”

“Newt.” Newt. His name is Newt. What kind of a name is that? _Newt_. Still, Minho likes it. It suits the guy, for some reason.

“Heard you talking to your boyfriend,” says Newt. “Sorry about that.”

“I—what?” It dawns on Minho that Newt must’ve caught only the last line of his conversation and misunderstood. “He’s not my boyfriend,” he adds quickly, because the last thing he wants at the moment is for Newt to think that.

“Whatever,” says Newt. “I’ll have your coffee ready in a minute.”

Minho nods, but Newt doesn’t seem to see; he turns away and, defeated, Minho sits down in the same spot he’d been at before. Thomas is laughing in his ear. “Oh, shit. Man that was — wow. He thought I was your boyfriend? Holy shit. Holy holy shit. That . . . words can’t begin to describe how hilarious I find this matter. I’m gonna text you, okay?” And then he hangs up on Minho, still laughing.

A minute late his phone buzzes.

 

 **From** : Thomas

lol u think id be ur bf? ok ill tell Gally ur mine

 

 **From** : Minho

NO

 

 **From** : Minho

btw how is captain gally?

 

 **From** : Thomas

idk we broke up again

 

 **From** : Minho

shit im sorry 2 hear that :((

 

 **From** : Thomas

me 2 but im tired of it all so u no. maybe ill try someone new 4 once

 

 **From** : Thomas

but enuf bout me tell all about sexy barista man!!

 

 **From** : Minho

y do i put up w/ u

 

 **From** : Minho

his name is newt, cute & i think british idk he has an accent

 

 **From** : Thomas

ooh minhos got a crush

 

 **From** : Minho

fuck u

 

 **From** : Thomas

fuck newt u mean haha minho got /game/

 

 **From** : Minho

k im done. so done w/ u. like so done u cant even explain how done i am.

 

 **From** : Thomas

lol ur so cranky :/

 

 **From** : Minho

done texting u thomas

 

Minho shoves his phone in his backpack and takes out his homework for English. He has to turn in his outline for a paper today, and it isn’t going well. With a sigh, he finds a pencil and starts writing.

He’s interrupted by Newt the Barista, who calls out his name. “Minho?”

Minho retrieves his coffee, and looks at the label. Sure enough, it doesn’t say his name—instead, in plain letters, the cup says “me no.”

“Is that a fucking joke,” mutters Minho as he stares at the label. It seems weird to think he’s stressing over such a simple problem. He takes a sip of the coffee—at least Newt can be counted on to get his coffee right. Minho starts to put away the useless English outline, and notices another piece of paper hidden under it. He pulls it out, and his heart sinks. Of course. The letter from the counsellor. The one telling him how much of a fuckup he was, and how he needed to step up his game if he wanted to remain in college. Minho resists the urge to crumple the paper in his fist. He has to stay in control of himself. He has to stay in control of his life.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I said this would be a slow build . . . and it will! Minho has some problems -- I did promise the angst, did I not? I feel bad for all of them :(
> 
> Next chapter we meet Thomas, so wait for that! Poor Thomas has plenty of his own problems, and I'll delve into those soon enough too . . .
> 
> x Mochi


	3. Chapter 3

**January 15 th, 6:49 am**

Minho comes early to the coffee shop this time, thinking he’ll have more time to work on his next assignment. He’s been at that same table for almost half an hour when the doorbell dings pleasantly and Newt the Barista walks in.

Minho has never seen the guy without a counter separating them, and he has to admit that Newt looks quite nice from a different angle. He’s wearing a simple white hoodie and jeans, but the look suits him. Minho feels suddenly rumpled and horrible—he hasn’t bothered to dress up at all. Normally, he saves that for after he gets coffee.

Newt catches his eye across the room and gives Minho a knowing smirk, but Minho doesn’t have the heart to respond. With a slight frown, Newt vanishes into the back room and returns a moment later in his barista outfit, then proceeds to walk over to Minho’s table. “Venti macchiato, am I right?” he asks.

Minho nods, letting his head slump forward until it’s resting on his arms. He vaguely hears Newt walking away, and then returning in a few minutes with his coffee, which he sets next to Minho’s arm. Minho lifts his head tiredly to inhale the smell—it wakes him up enough to get back his cocky attitude.

“So Newt,” he says, discreetly shifting in his chair, “are you in college?”

“Exchange student,” says Newt, hesitating for a moment. “This study-abroad programme thing. I’m staying with this family here, and working in a coffee shop in the meantime to make some extra money. I’m not actually in college right now, but I will be next semester, if everything goes according to plan.”

“Smart plan then.” Minho nods, taking a sip of his coffee and feeling the delicious rush of caffeine in his body. “Coffee shops, very nice places. Why don’t you let me buy you a coffee? I want to know more about this study-abroad thing.”

Newt hesitates again, a blush beginning to form on his cheeks. “Buy me coffee? But I—but I _work_ in a coffee shop,” he stammers.

“Yeah, I noticed,” says Minho wryly. “But I’m willing to bet that not only have you misspelled my name again, you also haven’t tried your own coffee in a while. So tell me what you’ll have, and sit down and take a break.”

He can see Newt pondering, and almost deciding on the positive, almost—but then he purses his lips and looks down at the ground. “I can’t. I’ll get in trouble.”

“At least let me take you out later,” offers Minho. “Somewhere nice.”

Newt smiles faintly. “Thanks, but no. I’m sorry.” He rests his hand on Minho’s shoulder for a moment—“And don’t worry about paying for this, it’s on me”—then walks back to the counter.

Minho groans and drops his head back onto his hands. He has too many other problems with school to be worrying about the stupid(ly cute) barista who won’t let him flirt with him. Normally people are only too willing to accept Minho’s flirtations. He never really likes any of those people though, just goes along with it to get his mind off of things for a while. But Minho can’t deny he likes a challenge. Maybe there will be something different about Newt.

The door chimes again and a moment later Minho feels another hand on his back and a familiar voice saying, “Shit, Minho, get up, I want to see this cute barista of yours and you need to get a hold on yourself.”

“Go ’way, Thomas.”

Thomas sits down in the chair next to Minho. “The blond one behind the counter, huh? Wow, you’re right—he _is_ cute. Okay. I officially like it one hundred percent. He keeps looking over at you, too—I swear it’s meant to be.”

“Shut up, Thomas.”

“I’m only trying to help—”

“Well, you’re not helping.” With an effort, Minho sits up and looks at Thomas. “Dude, you know what I’m going through. I just need to make it to the end of this semester.”

“Yeah . . .” Thomas’s sigh is as familiar as his laugh. “Well, we’ll do this.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Minho sees Newt serving coffee to another person, the shy smile back on his face. He looks like he isn’t comfortable with anything, not with the way he is, like his skin doesn’t fit him right. It’s a feeling Minho knows only too well. He resolves to get to know the barista, even if Newt resisted his flirtations before. After all, Minho likes a challenge better than anything else there is.

Except possibly coffee.

“How far along are you on that essay?” asks Thomas, and Minho pulls the paper back out of his bag for Thomas to see, because he really doesn’t feel like putting words together at the moment. Thomas reads over his notes hastily, his eyes flickering over the words Minho had hastily written. For the most part, Minho doesn’t bother to write neatly. Thomas is the exact opposite; always making sure every word is perfectly legible. It annoys Minho to no end.

“So how are things with Gally?” asks Minho once Thomas has finished and is drinking from his coffee cup.

Thomas laughs and puts his elbows on the table, leaning forward so that he and Minho are close enough to touch, if Minho moves an inch or two. “Well, we’re not back together yet. We were talking through text last night, and he says he thinks I don’t talk to him enough—because I’m not on my phone with him all the time. He’s also jealous of you.”

“Jealous of me, huh,” says Minho thoughtfully. “I take it that it isn’t just the awesome hair and sexy bod he doesn’t approve of?”

Thomas snorts coffee all over Minho’s notes, causing Minho to jump back with a yelp of surprise. “Dude, you just wasted totally useful coffee!”

“Enough about your ‘awesome hair’ and ‘sexy bod,’” says Thomas, grinning and wiping his mouth. “But I’m sure Newt would like to hear about them—or maybe more intimacy than just talking about it.”

“Shut up,” Minho says automatically. “I don’t even know if he’s into guys yet.”

“Did you ask?”

“No,” admits Minho, “but I kind of suggested we get coffee, and he didn’t seem to be happy about that idea.”

Thomas chokes on the coffee again. “Minho, you hopeless loser. You offered to buy coffee for a guy who works in a freakin’ coffee shop?”

“Yeah,” says Minho defiantly. “What about it?” As he thinks over the incident, he can’t stop picturing Newt’s face, puzzled with just a dash of flattered, confused as to why Minho would’ve approached him, but definitely not unwilling. “I think he might’ve wanted to, even just to hang out. I don’t know.”

“I think it’s something about you,” sighs Thomas. “People like you, Minho.”

“Not Professor Paige,” Minho reminds Thomas. “She gave me a failing grade.”

“She was going to fail you for the entire class but she changed her mind because she thought you had ‘potential’ or something,” Thomas retorts quickly. “She likes you—all the teachers like you, and you could get way more dates than you already have if you wanted.”

Except the ones he wants, Minho thinks. “It must be my effortless charm.” He runs his fingers through his hair so that it sticks up wildly, and winks at Thomas.

“Don’t flirt with me, Min,” cautions Thomas. “Your boyfriend might not be too pleased.”

“He’s _not_ my—oh, shut up.”

Laughing, Thomas takes another drink of Minho’s coffee, and then sets down the nearly empty cup. “Finish that if you want, then let’s go. We still have classes to go to, remember?”

“Yeah,” says Minho, looking over to where Newt is; their eyes meet for a brief instant before the other boy looks away, “I remember.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is all conversation! I wanted to make it very clear that Thomas’s and Minho’s relationship is, while one of best friends who know one another very well, somewhat superficial. They mostly communicate through texting and phone calls. The one time Thomas shows up, it’s brief. But they’re still friends, and wouldn’t want anything to change (or so they say).
> 
> Also, I have nothing against Gally as a character! I think he’s great and I love him just as much as I love the Ivy Trio. But for the purposes of this fic he needs to come across as a somewhat dislikeable character. Poor Thomas is going through a lot just as Minho is . . .
> 
> x Mochi

**January 21 st, 9:05 am**

“Thomas, tell me a good conversation starter, that isn’t a movie pickup line.”

“I suck at this; go ask someone else. Aren’t you supposed to be the master at flirting anyway, instead of stooping to ask me for help?”

“Quiet, peasant. Answer my demands or feel my wrath.”

“Are you at the coffee shop?”

“No, I’m still at the apartment, and I want to talk to the cat, but I’m at a loss for pickup lines. C’mon, Thomas, I want me some pussy today.”

“We have a cat? What the hell, Minho.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Tom. Of _course_ we don’t have a cat.”

“You sounded eerily like my sister when you said that.”

“That was my point. Yes, I’m at the coffee shop. I got coffee—what else does one do at a coffee shop?—and I tried to talk to Newt, but he goes like, ‘If I talk to you I’ll get in trouble, and my boss is a prick, so I’m sorry mate but I can’t.’ So I said, ‘Can I talk to you after work or something?’ and he’s like, ‘Well, I’m pretty busy with all the bloody stuff I have to do. Maybe later?’ Dude, I’m not stupid. I know when I’m being held off.”

“Maybe he isn’t just . . . maybe he thinks _you’re_ leading him on, and wants to hold you off. I mean, how often do random hot guys approach people at coffee shops?”

“I knew you thought I was hot.”

“What the hell, Minho.”

“You sound like Teresa too.”

“We’re _related_.”

“Funny, I never knew that. Seriously, man. I need a good way to ask him if he’s into guys, because I am at a loss, and you know that’s weird for me.”

“How ’bout . . . ‘Hey, I just met you, and this is crazy . . . but I’m so homo, so date me, maybe?’”

“What the hell, Thomas! No. Just _no_. That song is so—I don’t even know. My ears are bleeding, and it’s hard to breathe.”

“That’s not the only thing that’s hard, I bet.”

“Shut it, shitface. What, are you in high school still? Speaking of, there are no classes today, so I have the whole day to stare longingly at that cute British barista. I want to know something to _say_.”

“Ask him when his shift’s over.”

“Stalker, much?”

“Fine, ask him if he has any plans for after his shift is over, and if not, would he consider going out to do something with you? It doesn’t have to be a date.”

“Okay, if I get enough courage and stupidity mustered together by this coffee I’ll try that one out. Thanks, Thomas.”

“Glad to help my best friend when he’s in trouble. Oh by the way, did he spell your name wrong again?”

“Yeah—with two N’s. I swear he does it on purpose.”

“So he’s either a major asshole or he likes you.”

“Or both.”

“In which case he’s just your type.”

“Well, he’s just like you, you mean.”

“Ooh, burn.”

“Thanks. So, um. How are things with Gally now? I haven’t asked in a few days.”

“Oh, we’re currently not actually _dating_ , but occasionally going to his place to hook up. You know, the usual drama.”

“Thomas—do you—um. Do you . . . do you still love him?”

“I . . . well. Well. I don’t know, Min. I used to, like desperately, but I think something’s changed since we went to college. You know how most people don’t stay in their relationships once they leave high school? I’m thinking that would’ve been a better idea for us. But every time I think I want to break up, something just happens, and I . . . I don’t know. Enough about me—talk to that sexy barista of yours!”

“He’s not _my_ barista—”

“Don’t insult me, you dick. I saw how he looked at you, like you were the last cup of coffee and he needed you terribly.”

“That’s lousy. And, Thomas, you’ve been to this place _once_ before.”

“So what? I’m smart. That’s why I’m winning at life.”

“And accounts for your GPA.”

“Don’t you start.”

“Fine, fine . . . I’ll talk to him! . . . But not now. I don’t want him to think it’s too soon.”

“Minho, it’s been almost a month.”

“Still too soon! I’m serious, dude. I don’t want him to think I’m some stalker who preys on innocent-looking British guys who work as baristas in tiny coffee shops so I can rape them or something along that plot line.”

“And you’re not?”

“Oh, shut your face.”

“My face needs no changing.”

“I beg to differ.”

“You’re just upset because _your_ face isn’t—! Hold on. _What is it, Teresa? I’m on the phone!_ ”

“Your sister?”

“Yeah, she— _I said I’m busy! I’m talking to Minho; he’s having a bit of a crisis—no. Okay, fine!_ Sorry about that, Min. She said to say hi.”

“Oh, okay. _HI_ , _TERESA_.”

“Holy shit, Minho, my eardrum . . . did you have to yell that loud?”

“Yeah. Listen, dude, I’m gonna go. I’ll talk to you later. Tell me how it goes with Gally. And I’ll be back at the apartment around six or so, okay? We can watch a _Doctor Who_ marathon or something—we haven’t done that in a while.”

“Okay, sounds good to me. And _Doctor Who_ would be nice. Have fun doing whatever you’re doing . . . that isn’t the barista.”

“Shut _up_. I’m studying and running, maybe going to the library. So, yeah. I’ll talk to you later—maybe text you around lunch, something like that. Tell Gally I said hey, will you?”

“I will. Bye, Min. Don’t get yourself killed.”

“You be careful too, and don’t die.”

“Great. Will do.”


	5. Chapter 5

 

**February 8 th, 10:12 am**

The cup is warm in his hands, his fingers curled around the handle. Minho exhales slowly, watching his breath form a small puff of cloud in front of his face. Some idiot must’ve forgotten to turn on the heat, or else they really liked the cold—it hadn’t been such a cold winter, but this morning had been especially chilly, and Minho threw on a coat before going outside. Looking back, he’s glad of that choice, since the coffee shop is freezing.

Newt the barista is making coffee, but the few customers inside don’t look like they’ll be moving any time soon. Most are huddled in corners, laptops on, drinking various drinks that will warm them up. For his own part, Minho isn’t _that_ cold; he’s been running all morning, anyway.

He stares down at the cup, at the neat swirl on the surface. He hasn’t taken a sip yet; he’s been savouring the feel of the cup in his hands, and the stillness of the room in which he is. Minho hasn’t even looked at his phone all morning, which is saying something, because Thomas has probably already texted and called him multiple times. The device has buzzed repeatedly before Minho shut it off.

He doesn’t want anything distracting him, not when he’s focusing on not freaking out. Not freaking out will be good. Freaking out will be bad. Telling Thomas anything will be worse, because Thomas will want to help, and although Minho is grateful for his best friend, he doesn’t want Thomas involved. He’s going to see Thomas soon anyway; he only stopped by this place to get his usual coffee.

Minho doesn’t know how long he sits there, but it’s enough time for the coffee cup in his hands to go cold. He’s watching the slight twinkling of lights from the electric sign on the dingy front of the shop as they reflect in the mirror over the water fountain (why there’s a water fountain in a freaking _coffee_ _shop_ he has no idea) when a gentle hand is placed on his shoulder. The touch is soft and hesitating, as if the owner of the hand isn’t confident in the least.

“Minho?” says a voice, a voice that Minho recognises as Newt’s, “is everything okay?”

Is everything okay has got to be the stupidest question in the world, Minho thinks. There will never be a time when everything is okay, so what’s the point in asking? Instead, ask if you can help. Ask if it’s anything you did. Ask if the person would like to talk about it.

If Thomas were the one asking him, Minho would say all of that. But he doesn’t say any of it to Newt. Instead, he looks up into the wide blue eyes of the barista and says, “Why the hell is it so cold in here?”

Newt blushes, the effect being odd, as his cheeks are pale from the cold. “This bloke Ben tried to turn up the heat and ended up breaking it. We can’t fix it, but we will by tomorrow. I’m sorry.”

“How does that even happen?”

“Ben,” says Newt dryly, “has a special way with physical objects. He tends to break every bloody thing he touches. So we’ve been giving people free coffees, that sort of thing.”

Minho raises his eyebrows, and notices that Newt still has his hand on Minho’s shoulder. He tries to think of what it was Thomas told him to say—something about going out for dinner maybe after Newt’s shift is over—but comes up blank.

“I just wanted to know if you were okay,” says Newt awkwardly. “You come in here nearly every day and sit at this table, and you never look like you’re happy. If there’s anything I can do to help—don’t hesitate to let me know.”

“You could start by letting me buy you a drink,” says Minho, because while his flirtatiousness might be absent when he needs it, it’s there when he doesn’t, “and maybe take you somewhere after that.”

Newt actually laughs, and takes his hand off Minho’s shoulder. “Do you flirt with every bloody thing you see, or just me?”

“Do you reject every flirtation, or just mine?”

“Touché. But I don’t think your boyfriend would be very happy with you saying things like that when he isn’t here.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” says Minho quickly—perhaps too quickly, because Newt looks suspicious. “That guy I was talking to—that’s my best friend, my roommate, Thomas. We’re—well, let’s just say we have never thought being in a romantic relationship would work.”

“It doesn’t have to be romantic,” Newt points out.

“That’s what she said,” replies Minho.

Newt laughs again. “Very funny. I agree about the cold—and again, I’m sorry. I’m cold too. But, my boss _did_ say we’d get a nice bonus if we stayed around to work today. What else could I do but stay?”

“Well—hey, listen,” says Minho, starting to pull off his coat, “I have to go anyway, I promised my friend—Thomas, the one I mentioned—that I would meet him after I got coffee, and it’s later than I thought. But if you’re going to stay, at least take my coat.”

“I couldn’t do that; you’ll get cold,” protests Newt.

“I’ll be fine—I live close to here anyway. I can come back and get it later, or tomorrow.” Minho tries to hand his coat to Newt, who reluctantly accepts it. “I come here a lot, if you haven’t noticed,” he says, hoping Newt has.

Newt purses his lips as he puts on Minho’s coat; it’s too big for him, but somehow it makes him look even more attractive. “Thank you. You really didn’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, sure I didn’t,” says Minho sarcastically. “I could’ve just let you freeze, that would’ve been okay too. I’ll see you around,” he adds, then grabs his coffee and leaves before he can say anything that would mess up the conversation he’s just miraculously had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minho talked to Newt!!


	6. Chapter 6

**February 10 th, 8:21 am**

He can’t stop replaying the conversation over and over in his head—isn’t that one of those signs of obsession? Minho wouldn’t know anyway; he’s a Biology major, not a philosopher, and Thomas has always been better at those things. Not that _that_ means much.

But anyway, he can’t get it off his mind. The way Newt looked when he took the coat from Minho, how he opened his mouth briefly like he wanted to say something, then turned away, unwillingly accepting Minho’s offer. He’s so resistant—it bothers Minho more than it probably should, considering he has a major issue with control. And he’s way too impulsive. Everyone knows _that_ about him, if nothing else.

So when Minho walks into the coffee shop again, two days later, he doesn’t do what he wants to and goes over to where Newt is. Instead, he finds his usual table, sits down, and starts to take out his phone to text Thomas.

His phone isn’t in the pocket of his hoodie. “Shit,” mumbles Minho, searching the other pocket and finding nothing. He was certain he left his phone in the pocket of his—of his coat. The one that he gave to Newt. Minho bites his lip as he thinks about what Newt must think—had Thomas texted him anything? If so, what? Had he said anything about Newt?

Of course, he hadn’t even noticed that his phone was missing. He should’ve thought of it, but Minho remembers vowing not to spend too much time talking or texting with Thomas and actually study for his classes. Thomas must be frantic. He works nights, so he’s rarely home at the apartment Minho and Thomas share, at least not at the same time Minho is.

Minho gathers his courage and walks up to the counter, where Newt is serving espresso to a middle-aged man in a white suit. When it’s his turn to order, he leans his elbow on the counter, but before he can speak, Newt turns around and starts making coffee. “I know—venti macchiato. I’ll have it ready in a moment, just bloody wait for once.”

Confused, Minho starts to say something, but it’s obvious Newt isn’t in a chatty mood. He shrugs and sits down at his table again. As usual, Newt brings the drink over to Minho, but this time he doesn’t make eye contact and doesn’t say a word. He tries to leave, but Minho grabs Newt’s wrist and pulls the other boy towards him. “What’s up? You don’t look happy.”

Newt jerks back from Minho’s hand like the touch is electrifying. “I . . . nothing.” He reaches in his pocket and takes out Minho’s phone. “I have your coat in the back. I’ll get it in a minute.” He gives the phone to Minho and walks quickly into the room marked “employees only.”

Minho frowns and looks down at his phone. The screen displays his most recent messages. There are many of them, and all from Thomas. His heart sinks as he reads them one after another.

 

 **From** : Thomas

minho what happened at the coffee shop tell me

 

 **From** : Thomas

min where r u

 

 **From** : Thomas

i have a story 2 tell so call me plz

 

 **From** : Thomas

r we still on 4 tmrw nite?

 

 **From** : Thomas

minho y aren’t u answering ur phone

 

 **From** : Thomas

MINHO

 

 **From** : Thomas

r u breaking up w/ me??

 

 **From** : Thomas

lol min i was jk wow

 

 **From** : Thomas

teresa wants 2 know if u like bagels wtf

 

 **From** : Thomas

hi hi hi what’s up

 

 **From** : Thomas

k im freaked now

 

 **From** : Thomas

WHATEVER I DID I’M SORRY ALREADY

 

With a groan, Minho starts to reply to Thomas’s texts, feeling like a hole has been ripped in his chest. Thomas didn’t mean any harm; he just didn’t know. But Minho is still upset.

 

 **From** : Minho

thomas u total asshole i lost my phone and now newt read those texts & idek what 2 say

 

 **From** : Thomas

holy shit im sorry but lmao

 

 **From** : Thomas

… so do u like bagels?

 

 **From** : Minho

i will call u ltr

 

Newt returns with Minho’s coat. “Thanks for letting me borrow this,” he says. Minho replies with the obligatory “it was nothing” as he takes the coat from Newt. Their hands brush and Minho feels sick to his stomach after all that’s happened. He shouldn’t be worrying about something so trivial, he knows. But triviality is all he can care about.

“How much is the coffee?” asks Minho, already taking his wallet out of his coat (another thing he left; he’s lucky he didn’t get pulled over for driving with no license).

Newt waves his hand. “You don’t pay here.”

Minho starts to ask why, but the look on Newt’s face kills the words in his mouth. “Okay,” he mutters, feeling like an idiot, then “sorry about my friend Thomas,” but Newt shrugs away the apology.

“No problem. I don’t bloody care.”

“Yeah,” says Minho uncomfortably. He wants to say something else, something to let Newt know how he’s starting to feel about him, but instead he turns and walks away.

 

 **From** : Minho

u suck

 

 **From** : Thomas

i take it that it did not go well :/

 

 **From** : Minho

u could say that

 

 **From** : Minho

yeah

 

 **From** : Minho

it did not go well

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry my poor babies :((
> 
> So yeah, I can imagine how it must have felt for Newt to see Thomas texting Minho that way . . . well, of course I can, since I wrote it, but you know what I mean. Newt would have to get used to Thomas (and Minho, honestly) if he's going to be a part of their lives.
> 
> More soon!  
> x Mochi


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is also only media (texting and phone conversations). Every so often, I'm planning on doing one of those, maybe every three chapters or so. Just a heads-up to let you know!
> 
> I'm having so much fun with this fic, and I will try to update a bunch of my other works that haven't been updated in a while. I have ideas for most of them, so wait for that. It'll happen withing the next few days, I'm hoping . . .
> 
> x Mochi

**February 26 th, 12:01 pm**

“Thomas? Hey, Thomas.”

“What; I’m trying to sleep.”

“You answered you phone, not me, so don’t go complaining about trying to sleep after _you_ decided to answer the—hold on, why are you trying to _sleep_? It’s like twelve or something—hold on again, let me check—yeah, it’s twelve.”

“I don’t give a shit, I’m still trying to sleep. You may not know this, Min, but I was up late last night, at that _stupid_ party you wanted me to go to, and we got back around three in the freakin’ morning, and I have one hell of a hangover this morning.”

“Seeing as it’s past noon, I don’t think it qualifies as morning still. Sorry to disappoint, Tom, but you need to get up anyway. You’ll miss the whole day.”

“Minho—! Don’t call me Tom; that’s what Teresa calls me. Please, don’t end up like Teresa. Please don’t be like my sister.”

“Why not? I like your sister.”

“She treats you like you’re her pet or something. I swear, it’s sickening whenever you come over for dinner. And afterwards she’s all like, ‘Oh, Minho’s so nice! You should invite him over more often, Tom!’”

“I’m not complaining.”

“Oh, forget it.”

“Seriously, dude. You should get up.”

“I _am_ up.”

“I thought you were sleeping.”

“I was trying to, but I’m not at the apartment any more, I—never mind.”

“Well, do try and get something done, man. I’m bored without you. Honestly. I even forgive you for texting me and making Newt think I was a total weirdo with a possessive, needy boyfriend.”

“Hate to break it to you, but you _are_ a total weirdo—and I’m very possessive and needy. You know that; we live in the _same_ _apartment_. As for being bored, I don’t know what to tell you, Min. Go do something else.”

“Like what?”

“How would I know! How about that barista, what’s-his-name, Newt?”

“Dude, you’re disgusting.”

“You’re not denying it.”

“Because I—yeah, I’m not. But I’m still gonna hang up on you, Thomas. See, there I called you _Thomas_ instead of _Tom_. Happy? Okay, good. You should be. So, um. I’ll text you in a moment, got it?”

“Yeah—I guess so—”

“Good. Seeya.”

 

 **From** : Minho

where r u

 

 **From** : Thomas

at the library why

 

 **From** : Minho

im at the coffee shop i need yr help

 

 **From** : Minho

what was that thing u said 2 say 2 newt?

 

 **From** : Thomas

hi i love u

 

 **From** : Minho

im pretty sure that’s not it

 

 **From** : Thomas

HI I LOVE U

 

 **From** : Minho

i love u 2 but what about newt?

 

 **From** : Thomas

lol wait till gally sees these texts :/

 

 **From** : Minho

he’s readin yr texts? stalker

 

 **From** : Thomas

no

 

 **From** : Thomas

I said ask him out

 

 **From** : Thomas

/duh/

 

 **From** : Minho

thanks?

 

 **From** : Thomas

call me when u can i want 2 tlk more.

 

(Thomas rarely uses punctuation, so the period on the end of his sentence strikes Minho as weird. There must be something up when Thomas is using periods on the ends of his sentences.)

 

 **From** : Minho

k will do but y?

 

 **From** : Thomas

JUST DO IT DICKHEAD

 

 **From** : Minho

breaking out the insults r we? ha

 

 **From** : Thomas

talked 2 newt yet 2day?

 

 **From** : Minho

no. tbh i have a headache 2, u no that.

 

 **From** : Thomas

but the party was awesome tho

 

 **From** : Minho

u and gally totally sucked eachothers faces off but it was hot af i swear

 

 **From** : Minho

i mean that in a bff way of course ;)

 

 **From** : Thomas

yeah thanks i was there

 

 **From** : Minho

ha tru dat

 

 **From** : Minho

u and gally r cute but he’s a dick sometimes

 

 **From** : Thomas

so r u, im still bffs with /YOU/

 

 **From** : Minho

ooh an actual “you” im so scared

 

 **From** : Thomas

lol u should be ;P

 

 **From** : Minho

fine. ttyl?

 

 **From** : Thomas

we r such trash

 

 **From** : Thomas

ttyl


	8. Chapter 8

 

**March 12 th, 5:59 pm**

 

It’s been a while since he’s been in the coffee shop, what with his classes being so busy, studying with Thomas, frequenting the frat parties Gally seems to host every single weekend, the ones where everybody who is anybody has to go to in order to retain their meagre social status. Thomas goes because he’s Gally’s boyfriend, and Minho goes because he’s Thomas’s best friend. He spends a lot of time in the library (he’s spent hours flirting with one of the cute librarians, Sonya, although she won’t let him get out of paying his fines on overdue books) and in the apartment. Minho and Thomas watch marathons of their favourite movies and shows every so often. Minho runs around campus every morning. He doesn’t try to exist without coffee, although he steers clear of that one little shop.

Then one day, after a particularly stressful day of classes (Professor Paige, no matter what Thomas believes, dislikes Minho with a passion and has no qualms about giving him low grades; he is told repeatedly that if he wants to major in Biology, he needs to step it up and try harder) and on a day where Thomas is planning on going out with Gally later, so that Minho would be alone, he decides to go back. He isn’t sure if Newt will still be there—when do exchange students usually go back to their own countries?—but hell, he needs some coffee that’s actually good and doesn’t taste like shit, and Newt is someone he knows he can count on to make a good venti macchiato.

So Minho leaves the apartment and runs to the coffee shop, and he’s pushing open the door when his phone rings (again) and of course Thomas would decide to call Minho at this moment, because Thomas has some of the worst luck in the world.

“Thomas, now is not a good time,” warns Minho as he gets in line (in front of him are two pretty girls, one blonde and one dark, giggling over what they want; he doesn’t know if they’re a couple or not, but it looks like it).

“Aah, it never is. Are you at the coffee shop again?”

And this is the reality of his life—Minho hasn’t been to the coffee shop in weeks, and Thomas knows it, and hasn’t bothered calling, so of course the one time Thomas calls to ask where Minho is (when Minho should have been at home watching _Doctor Who_ over again), it turns out Minho is at that coffee shop. Again.

“Yes,” says Minho tersely. “What about it?”

“Well, can Gally and I join you for diner or something?”

“It’s a coffee shop, not a restaurant. I don’t know what you’d be able to eat in this place.”

“Other than the hot barista,” mumbles Thomas, “don’t kill me!—I could get scones or something. Are there scones?”

Minho scoffs. “Are there scones, indeed.”

“’Kay, we’ll be there in ten,” replies Thomas, and as he hangs up Minho hears his best friend talking to Gally about the change in plans. Minho knows Thomas and Gally have been together for years, since junior year of high school, and that at first they truly were a perfect pair. Thomas was into architecture and art, a nerdy kid who thought Minho (who had then been labelled as, unfortunately, a jock) was the ideal friend to have. Gally had been the tougher side of Thomas, and for a while it had been wonderful. Thomas was brimming with happiness about his newfound relationship, and hardly payed attention to the homophobic comments spewed his way. (It had been different for Minho, being popular; he went out with girls, and that was the talk of the school, but he knew if he’d decided to go out with a boy, he would lose his throne in an instant. The school that Minho and Thomas had attended had not been one of the most kind in the area.)

But then things had changed when they went to college. Gally had become rougher, angrier, more possessive and controlling. He and Thomas had broken up, gone through a period of rediscovery (their word, not Minho’s), gotten back together, broken up again, and repeated the process in a never-ending cycle of relationship drama. Minho wanted to help Thomas, but he didn’t know what to do.

The girls in front of Minho order double cappuccinos, then there’s no one between him and the counter. Minho looks around for Newt, but the barista behind the counter is another boy he doesn’t recognise, whose name tag labels him as “Ben” and who looks even shyer than Newt.

“May I take your order?”

“Espresso,” says Minho after a moment of thinking. “And, um. What kinds of scones do you have?”

Ben gestures to the display case. “We have plenty of options,” he says in a soft voice that Minho thinks he would probably not find as irritating if he wasn’t in a sudden and unexplainable bad mood. Minho buys several types of scones, just to annoy Thomas (because hey, that’s a best friends thing), then takes his espresso and sits down at a different table.

Thomas and Gally walk in holding hands (which Minho takes a s a good sign) and come over to his table. Thomas eyes the pile of scones distrustfully, and Minho smiles innocently at him and takes a sip of the coffee. “Help yourself, Thomas. You wanted scones, after all. Isn’t blueberry your favourite?”

“I don’t like blueberry,” grumbles Thomas as he sits down next to Minho, “and you know that, asshole.” But he takes one of the scones and bites into it, and he looks fairly happy, so Minho honestly isn’t complaining.

Well, he wouldn’t complain, for the sake of his best friend and his best friend’s boyfriend, but he wishes Newt were the one taking orders instead of Ben. Maybe Newt doesn’t work so late, which would make sense, but Minho has a bit of a selfish and petty streak, and he knows his mood would improve with the addition of the adorable British barista.

“So Gally, have you heard about Minho’s adorable new boyfriend?” says Thomas wickedly. “He works here, in a morning shift, I assume. He’s deadly cute, blond, tall and skinny, big blue eyes and a gorgeous smile. Minho’s head over heels already.”

“Shut up, Thomas,” says Minho. It doesn’t escape his knowledge that Thomas is being perhaps a bit too flattering, but honestly he can’t disagree with the description.

Gally raises an eyebrow, a trick Minho keeps meaning to learn and forgetting to. “Minho’s dating someone else again, and you want me to be—what? Surprised? You know that isn’t a reasonable thing to ask.”

“Ah, yeah,” replies Thomas. “Minho has had about a million significant others. If they were significant, of course. Most of them were nothing more than one-night stands, am I right, Min?”

Minho gives Thomas a deadpan look. “No, I cried my heart out over each and every one of them. Thomas, you asshole. Could you _please_ stop discussing my love life at length with the world?”

“Gally isn’t the world,” says Thomas, grabbing Minho’s cup of espresso to take a sip as usual then putting it down with a revolted look on his face after he realises that the cup contains espresso instead of the usual venti macchiato.

“No, but you could at least be quieter,” hisses Minho. “Yes, okay, I like this barista who works here! So what? I still don’t even know if he’s into guys, much less me. Every time I try to talk to him, he kind of freaks out and refuses to let me flirt with him, which, as you can guess, is not a great confidence booster for me.”

“Ah, Minho,” says Thomas thoughtfully. “Can’t win over everything in the world, can you. Well, life’s a bitch.”

“So are you,” says Minho, taking his coffee back from Thomas and finishing it. “Do you guys really want to stay here? There isn’t much but coffee and the occasional scone or two, but we can bring those with us. We could go somewhere a little nicer than this place.”

“Yeah, sure,” says Thomas indifferently. “Your barista won’t show up anyway, not if he works the morning shift.”

Gally rolls his eyes. “I’m fine with going wherever. There’s this pretty nice place down the road, though, that I don’t think you’ve been to, Minho.”

“Ohhh, I know that one,” says Thomas happily. “Didn’t we go there just a few nights ago?”

Gally nods. Minho stands up, putting his empty cup back down on the table. “Yeah,” he says as he looks around one more time, although he knows Newt won’t be there, “let’s go see that place you were talking about then.”


	9. Chapter 9

**May 19 th, 7:03 am**

With finals coming up, Minho has less and less time to himself. He spends most of his waking hours in the apartment studying, hoping that he’ll be able to cram enough facts into his head in order to pass at least the majority of his classes. _Just this semester_ , he tells himself over and over. _Then I can take a break for the summer. Then I can try to fix my life_.

But some time in May he decides having Thomas get him coffee isn’t enough, and besides he needs some time where he doesn’t have to focus on school. He hates how he’s been doing, and nearly every week he’s back in Professor Paige’s office, trying to explain why he hasn’t gotten this new thing or that old thing done yet. Or if he has, why he keeps getting low grades.

In his college handbook thing, the generic one that every freshman got at the start of the year, it said that freshman year in any college is the year where students are most likely to get lower letter grades and even fail classes, because they had to adjust to a new environment and new ways of doing things. However, the book also cautioned, it’s still important to work hard—especially that one year—because as time goes on, it takes more and more grades to change the GPA you already have.

Minho read the handbook three times, then threw it in the trash, although he knows Thomas took it out and still reads it sometimes. Thomas is that type of person. It’s weird, how he and Minho can get along. People wonder. Even Minho does sometimes.

When he walks into the coffee shop, his eyes find the barista, Newt, from across the room. Something like a jolt of panic goes through Minho, like an icy hand grabbed him and ripped out his insides. He want to turn around and run, but instead gets in line. Today, the only customer is a guy whose name tag on his medical doctor _-_ y type outfit identifies him as “Clint.”

“Can I take your order?” says Newt, with a slight tremble in his voice that Minho thinks fleetingly must mean he’s as nervous as Minho himself (although how that’s possible he doesn’t have a clue).

“Venti macchiato, as usual,” says Minho, not looking up from studying the grain of the counter top.

“Usual?” Newt frowns, not making a move to start preparing the coffee for Minho. “You can’t say _usual_ when you haven’t been in here for an entire bloody _month_. I thought you’d walk in, every bloody day, like you normally do, but you never did.”

Minho freezes in place, staring at Newt, who has a faint blush on his cheeks but who presses on determinedly. “Venti macchiato, venti macchiato—not one of the other customers has _ever_ ordered a venti macchiato! You are honestly the only bloody reason we still serve them.”

 _Work, brain, work_ , urges Minho, but he’s still stuck staring at the barista, who apparently has more nerve to him than Minho had given him credit for. Finally he finds his voice. “I’ve had a lot of shit going on, sorry.” Not the smoothest apology he can give, but better than nothing, right?

“I know the feeling,” says Newt, who still isn’t making coffee, for some bizarre reason. “Hey, er . . . is there anything I can do? To, you know, help?”

And _now_ his mind finally falls into place and Minho regains his attitude in an instant. “Yes, actually,” he says flirtatiously, leaning on the counter. “You could let me buy you a coffee.”

“Oh, let him,” says another voice, and Minho glances away from Newt briefly to see the other guy—Ben—grinning at them. “If it means you’ll stop moaning about the ‘sexy Asian bloke who likes venti macchiatos’ for one second, please do.” He leans around Newt to shake Minho’s hand. “Met once before—Ben.”

“Pleased to meet you,” says Minho. “I’m the sexy Asian bloke who likes venti macchiatos.”

“Both of you shut it!” says Newt suddenly, his face a bright shade of crimson. “Ben—screw off, you snooping twat. Minho—” Something in his voice changes when he says Minho’s name. “Okay, fine, you win. You can buy we a coffee—but I do have to finish my shift before I can g—”

“Don’t listen to that BS,” interrupts Ben. “I’ll finish for you, Newt.” Ben winks at Minho so that Newt can’t see, and turns around to finish whatever he was doing. But Minho isn’t looking at Ben.

Newt swallows and examines his hands for a moment, then looks up, right at Minho. “Fine,” he says, the nervous tremor from before back, “you can buy me a coffee.”

Minho has to bite down on his lip to keep himself from grinning like a maniac at this small victory. “Great, what d’you like?”

“Ah—cappuccino,” says Newt, shifting from foot to foot.

“All right, make it how you like it, then come and join me,” says Minho.

“Shut up!” says Ben loudly. “I’ll make coffee, you two go flirt with each other, and don’t worry about paying either.” He chuckles as he starts making coffee, then adds in an only slightly quieter voice, “And you two are cute together, just sayin’.”

“Don’t mind Ben,” says Newt as he walks around the corner, untying his barista’s apron. “He can be a bit of a prat sometimes.”

“You’re so _British_ ,” says Minho wonderingly. “It’s almost like you’re not from here—some kind of foreigner, or—what’s the word I’m looking for—exchange student . . . ?”

“We say ‘English,’ actually, for the record” Newt corrects him, smiling slightly. “So, well then . . .” He sits down at the table Minho’s practically claimed as his own, and folds him arms. Minho recognises the gesture; it’s something he does when he isn’t sure how to proceed.

But now that Minho has finally gotten to the guy, he’s certain that even if he doesn’t know how to proceed he sure as hell will proceed anyway. “Tell me more about this whole exchange student spiel of yours.”

“Well, I’m staying with a sort of host family—this bloke, I mean dude, whatever word you Americans use, name’s Alby—for a year or two. So, I’ll be here over the summer, and then I’m planning to start taking classes at the local college. That’s the one you go to, right? I’m eighteen, but I didn’t want to go to college at home, so mum decided it would be a good plan to send me here for a change.”

“What’s it like, living in Britain?”

“Again—we call it England! Not that much of a difference, but it’s kind of funny. Some girl called me a ‘Brit’ the other day, I had no idea what she was talking about. But anyway, yeah, it’s pretty much the same. Rains a lot more, though.”

Minho nods sympathetically, noting how Newt’s face lights up when he talks about his home and wondering whether or not he’ll even be able to induce that look on anyone. Ben brings them coffee, grinning widely the whole time, and they talk. And talk. And they keep talking, so much so that, hours later, when Minho checks his phone and finds he has twenty-seven text messages, eight voicemails, and twelve emails from Thomas, he doesn’t even bother to reply. He might have wasted an entire day, in anyone else’s opinion, but in his, it was the best day that he can remember in a long, long time.

 

 **From** : Thomas

MINHO WHAT UP WHATS GOIN ON

 

 **From** : Thomas

y arent u answering my calls

 

 **From** : Thomas

did u hook up w/ newt

 

 **From** : Thomas

if u did tell me ok

 

 **From** : Thomas

i mean not the sexy stuff ugh lol no

 

 **From** : Thomas

but the good stuff

 

 **From** : Thomas

hello min r u alive or not

 

 **From** : Thomas

ud tell me if u dies rite

 

 **From** : Thomas

b cuz im ur bff

 

 **From** : Thomas

oh i guess not :(

 

 **From** : Thomas

btw im still w/ gally

 

 **From** : Thomas

so . . . u want pasta 4 dinner or nah

 

 **From** : Thomas

jk im not making pasta :P

 

 **From** : Thomas

did u rly hook up w/ newt

 

 **From** : Thomas

am i missing somethin here

 

 **From** : Thomas

DETAILS MAN COME ON

 

 **From** : Thomas

god im drying here

 

 **From** : Thomas

*dying

 

 **From** : Thomas

oh i see how it is :/

 

 **From** : Thomas

gally says hi so hi from gally

 

 **From** : Thomas

hi my hairs on fire and it burned the wall oops

 

 **From** : Thomas

the apt burned down 2 sorry

 

 **From** : Thomas

minho

 

 **From** : Thomas

also the fire ruined ur books

 

 **From** : Thomas

and ur laptop lol

 

 **From** : Thomas

and ur copys of “dr who”

 

 **From** : Minho

no

 

 **From** : Minho

not my dr who plz say it isnt so thomas

 

 **From** : Thomas

UR ALIVE OMFG

 

 **From** : Thomas

what the hell happened  2 u min!!!

 

 **From** : Minho

:)


	10. Chapter 10

**May 21 st, 8:04 am**

 

The next day Minho woke up happy, for once, and spent a moment thinking over how things had gone the day before. He and Newt spent nearly the entire day talking and getting to know one another, and then, at the end, Newt said he “looked forward to seeing you again, Minho,” which Minho took as a good sign.

He still hasn’t gathered up the courage to ask Newt if he like guys, or not. To tell the truth, Minho is slightly scared that Newt will say no, he doesn’t like guys, he’s straight. Or worse, he does like guys, but he isn’t interested in Minho.

The happiness he’s been feeling after the post-date (can he call it a date?) euphoria wears off by the time he makes it to the coffee shop. He actually has to do things today, and can’t afford to spend hours talking to baristas in coffee shops, which sucks, yeah, but Minho knows better than to blow off another day. At the rate he’s going, he won’t even pass any of his classes.

There’s a long line, including the guy from yesterday—Clint?—and another guy in doctor’s clothes (Minho still isn’t sure what they’re called); the man in white he saw before, who looks like he needs an espresso desperately; the pretty girls who are almost certainly a couple, since they’re spending too much time giggling and pushing each other, even for girls; several college students, conversing loudly about classes, which annoys Minho because he knows they’re probably doing fine on their finals, whereas he isn’t; a burly man who glares at everyone; and a tall guy with dark skin who doesn’t look happy about anything.

Minho decides to wait to get his venti macchiato, because to him it seems that the shop has more than enough customers. He spots Ben, who waves, although Newt doesn’t appear to be anywhere in sight. Ben catches Minho’s eye and mouths “in the back” before winking and serving a plate of scones to another customer without missing a beat.

His table is occupied by an elderly woman reading a fashion magazine, so Minho finds a barstool (which is named such because they originated at bars, a fact he never really knew until recently, oddly enough) and sits there instead to wait for a shorter line and Newt to find him, the latter of which happens first.

“Hey,” says Newt, sitting down next to Minho.

“Hey yourself, don’t they need you to work?” replies Minho. As soon as the words leave his mouth he realises what a terrible idea it was to say. Now Newt probably thinks Minho doesn’t want him there. _Stupid_ , Minho scolds himself. _Stupid Minho._

“Er, Ben told me to go out here,” says Newt awkwardly. “Something about—‘go chase your dreams, even if they happen to be annoying Asian college students with weird tastes in beverages’? I don’t know.”

“Oh.” And just like that, the conversation has turned into a warzone, and Minho has no idea what to say that won’t send artillery all over the place. He looks at Newt, looks away, then looks back, searching for words that won’t make him feel like an idiot. “So, um, what’s new?”

Newt actually laughs, and rubs his eyes. “Look at this, next I’ll be talking about the weather or something stupid. I’m sorry.”

“For what?” says Minho.

“Oh, for not being perfect with social skills,” replies Newt carelessly, and Minho can’t tell if he’s joking or not. “For making stuff awkward when I’m trying to flirt. For freaking out about you not coming here to buy venti macchiatos. Stupid stuff.”

“That isn’t stupid,” says Minho, while his brain is thinking _flirt flirt flirt._ “I do the same kind of thing.”

“Yeah, but you have friends—you _know_ people. Me, I’m the weird kid with the weird accent that no one bloody gives a shit about. Even when you’re freaking out, your friend, what’s-his-name, Thomas, is there to help you. You _have_ people. I don’t have anyone, really.”

Minho hesitates for longer than he would normally, because he’s tired of his flirtatious ways being unrewarding and leading to nothing but one-night stands. “You can have me, if you want.”

Newt turns his head and Minho has a fleeting moment of is-he-going-to-kiss-Newt-or-not anxiety, but then Newt bursts out laughing. “Oh, my god. You are _such_ a flirt! I can’t believe it, I thought it was just the stupid American stereotype . . . but no . . .”

“Wait, hold on.” Minho points a finger at Newt accusingly. “What stereotype?”

“In England, well—you know how you lot think all English people have funny accents and drink tea and the men are all sexy as fuck? Well, we think all American people eat hamburgers and complain and the women wear like nothing and the men flirt with everything that moves.”

“I’m stuck on _complain_ ,” admits Minho. “I don’t _complain_. I also don’t flirt with everything that moves. I mean, maybe I do flirt a little, okay, a _lot_ , but mostly that’s not for real—I don’t honestly mean it, most times—and really—”

“Minho?” says Newt, still trying to hold in his laughter.

“What?”

“Shut up.”

And then Newt leans forward and kisses Minho on the cheek, a small, sweet kiss, that still makes Minho’s face heat up and his skin tingle where Newt’s lips touched him. “I do have to go work, and I think you have to go to other things,” says Newt, inches away from Minho, “but I just wanted to let you know that I don’t mind you flirting with me. But everything else will have to stop, and only flirt with me, okay?”

Minho nods. “Okay.”

He texts Thomas the moment he’s outside of the coffee shop.

 

 **From** : Minho

HOLY FUCKIN SHIT

 

 **From** : Minho

THOMAS ASK ME WHAT HAPPENED

 

 **From** : Thomas

newt kissed u i no

 

From: Minho

how

 

 **From** : Thomas

i can read ur mind

 

 **From** : Thomas

ew no wait i dont want 2 do that ;)

 

 **From** : Minho

ha ha, very funny. but yeah

 

 **From** : Thomas

omfg

 

 **From** : Thomas

i knew it

 

 **From** : Thomas

r u 2 dating??? lol

 

 **From** : Minho

no, it was a cheek kiss dumbass

 

 **From** : Thomas

uh huh ;P

 

 **From** : Thomas

we needs 2 talk asap CALL ME

 

 **From** : Minho

maybe

 

 **From** : Thomas

did u just

 

 **From** : Minho

yup :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it’s a real thing that we English think of American guys as flirts, the same way you think of our guys as attractive :)  
> To be honest, the stereotypes are a bit weird sometimes.
> 
> x Mochi


	11. Chapter 11

**May 24th, 7:51 pm**

 

When Minho and Thomas were in high school, they were renowned for their friendship. At the time, Thomas was relentlessly tormented for being gay, having made it obvious enough to the school, whereas Minho preferred to keep his sexuality a secret. Thomas went around dating guys, and Minho stayed safe and only hung out with girls. And he didn’t dislike the girls he dated, some of them were really nice and attractive. He’d always considered himself to be bisexual, since he definitely liked nearly everyone.

Thomas was somewhat braver than Minho, or at least that was what Minho thought—not that he’d ever admit that to Thomas or anyone else. And Thomas had Gally, most of the time, because even when they were fighting or broken up they could still hang out and have awkward but nice conversations about either mundane or crucial subjects.

Minho wouldn’t lie, he was hoping that he’d have someone to tell everything to. Thomas satisfied that hope, for the most part, even if he could be—to borrow Newt’s word—a bit of a prat.

But he’s always been there for Minho, and Minho appreciates that more than he will tell Thomas. And that may have to do with the fact that they spend most of their waking hours texting each other and talking on the phone, but they’re still best friends, and Minho doesn’t want that to change any time soon.

So he texts Thomas a greeting, because he doesn’t feel like opening the day with anything but good stuff, in case karma actually decides that his life’s been a bit too good to be true and changes it around a bit.

 

 **From** : Minho

hey

 

 **From** : Thomas

hey u up yet

 

 **From** : Minho

no

 

 **From** : Thomas

its almost eight

 

 **From** : Thomas

get up

 

 **From** : Minho

no

 

 **From** : Thomas

ill tell newt ur lazy

 

 **From** : Thomas

do u have his number?

 

 **From** : Minho

no

 

(Minho didn’t even notice that he’d never gotten Newt’s number, at the time he was so focused on the fact he’d actually talked to the guy that he didn’t even think to ask for his contact information. He wonders if there’s a reason Newt didn’t give it to him unprompted. Maybe he’s just shy. Minho is certainly overanalysing things again.)

 

 **From** : Thomas

did u ask him

 

 **From** : Minho

no

 

 **From** : Thomas

u do realise that the entire conversation uve only said “no” right

 

 **From** : Minho

nah

 

He didn’t get Newt’s number. And suddenly all Minho wants to do is talk to Newt. But he can’t, because he didn’t think—so he does the only thing he’s been doing and goes to the coffee shop.

This time, Minho actually tries to looks good, which means he puts on a clean shirt and fixes his hair (which he does nearly every day, to Thomas’s amusement) before he leaves the apartment. He should get a cat, he thinks as he drives down the road to the coffee shop. That would be nice.

Newt is behind the counter as usual, serving coffee. Minho’s sure the coffee shop has a name other than “the coffee shop,” but he’s never bothered to find out what it was. For the first time, he notices the music playing in the background, something soft and relaxing, the genre of music Minho doesn’t normally like but that Thomas loves. Ben waves at Minho when he walks in. “Hey, it’s sexy Asian coffee guy!”

“Asian coffee, hm,” says Minho, making his way over to the counter. “Sexy Asian coffee, no less. I’ll have to try some of that for myself—I never knew such a thing existed.”

Ben laughs; he’s more personable the more Minho gets to know him. “You’re so sarcastic. It should balance out Newt nicely, he’s always so pessimistic and grumpy.”

“Oh, I can be pessimistic and grumpy,” Minho assures him. “But only sometimes, like on Wednesdays, or at the full moon, or when I feel like it, times like that. You know what I mean, right?”

Newt walks over then and smiles at Minho. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Minho isn’t sure what to say. He’s never been in quite this situation before. “I can’t stay for very long,” he finds himself saying, which is honestly true, although he’d been planning to ignore this fact, “so could I, um, have your number or something?”

Newt nods and holds out his hand for Minho’s phone while Ben winks and takes over Newt’s job serving coffee. When Newt’s finished he returns the phone to Minho. “I put myself in there as Newt, because everyone calls me that. It’s, er, short for Isaac Newton, by the way. I did really well in physics in college, so my friends gave me that nickname.”

“College?” says Minho, absolutely confused. Didn’t Newt say he was eighteen and hadn’t started college yet?

Newt slaps himself in the face. “God, I’m a prat. Okay, so college is high school in England. You call it high school, we say college. Elementary school is grade school. We say university instead of college like you lot do.”

Minho nods knowingly. “So you’ve done grade school and college but not university. That makes . . . absolutely no sense.”

“It makes total sense! We go to grade schools—primary, junior, and high—then college from ages sixteen to eighteen. Then we can go to university, although technically you can finish school at sixteen. And the grades are different, they don’t have names like you do here. You said you were a, a what—a freshman in college? That makes no sense at all! Freshman? What the bloody hell is a _freshman_? Or, what is it, a _sophomore_?” Newt grins, as if knowing he’s overreacting. “My little sister says _fresh_ _man_ and _soft_ _moor_ , and really—you think the _American_ way makes sense?”

“It makes more sense than _your_ way,” says Minho, but before he can rise to the defence of the American schooling system, Ben comes back over.

“Shoo,” says Ben, waving his hands at Minho. “Newt needs to work, and you two are adorable, yeah, but he has a job. You can talk later, but now he needs to help me or the boss’ll freak and that’s not good, ’cause she’s a bit of a bitch.”

“I was ordering a coffee,” says Minho defensively, because he really was planning to, and also because although he likes Ben, he wants to talk to Newt without being interrupted, even if it’s only about the difference between English school and American school.

“Yeah, yeah. Venti macchiato. I’ll get on it. Newt, serve someone else, you possessive blond barista.”

“Sexy Asian coffee guy and possessive blond barista,” says Newt thoughtfully.

“Yes, you’re lovely, get on it already,” says Ben, rolling his eyes at Minho behind Newt’s back.

“’Course,” says Newt, crinkling his nose, which is truthfully adorable. “I’ll talk to you later, Minho, okay?”

Minho nods and goes over to his usual table, already starting to text Thomas, because no matter what, he’s always going to rely on Thomas to listen to what he has to say, even if Thomas is not interested in the least.

 

 **From** : Minho

got newts digits

 

 **From** : Thomas

fingers??

 

 **From** : Minho

what

 

 **From** : Thomas

nevermind

 

 **From** : Minho

talk 2 u ltr

 

 **From** : Thomas

ttyl? ttfn? whatevs

 

 **From** : Minho

whatevs, lmao ok bye

 

Then Minho realises oh yeah, he can actually text Newt now. So he starts typing a message, but then stops. He wants to say something funny and clever and flirtatious, but he doesn’t know how to convey that over text. Thomas, he’s known long enough to be certain they won’t stop being friends because of one text taken the wrong way. But he doesn’t know Newt that well, certainly not as well as he’d like to. He has to scope out the boundaries.

 

 **From** : Minho

hi

 

Then he waits, because although there’s nothing wrong with him and Thomas sending each other dozens of messages when one isn’t responding, again—he doesn’t know about Newt, and how he feels about the whole thing.

But then, only a few moments later, his phone buzzes: one new text message. Minho taps on the message to open it up and reads it, not sure what he wants to see—or what he doesn’t want to see.

 

 **From** : Newt

hi, sexy Asian coffee guy ;)

 

Minho’s hands are shaking as he texts back.

 

 **From** : Minho

u think I’m sexy?

 

 **From** : Newt

be hard not to :)

 

 **From** : Minho

u still havent let me buy u a coffee, btw

 

 **From** : Newt

you don’t pay here

 

 **From** : Minho

oh, i see how it is ;) i would take that for free

 

 **From** : Newt

oh shut up :)

 

 **From** : Minho

make me?

 

 **From** : Newt

let me at least get your coffee first, perv

 

 **From** : Minho

anything for u

 

 **From** : Newt

what have I gotten myself into

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> American and English schools apparently do use different words: college/university, elementary/grade school, and so on. I decided to use the American terms when writing this, because the story is from Minho's point of view, and he's American (well, Korean, but he lives in America, so) and would therefore use the American words instead of the English ones. But I did want to put in that little bit of confusion over school systems, because it's been a BIG DEAL FOR ME, having to research the way American schools work (and by the way, freshman and sophomore make NO SENSE WHATSOEVER) for writing American characters.
> 
> If I made any mistakes in the American schooling system, or any mistakes at all, feel free to point them out! English is not my first language, nor my best language, and although I have my English-speaking friend edit my work, there still might be small grammar issues. I welcome all and any feedback, as long as it isn't rude or unwarranted.
> 
> Keep rooting for Minho, and Thomas as well!  
> x Mochi


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be trying to post a new chapter every day or two, and I will let you know if I plan to slow down. The story is coming along nicely, and I hope it will stay that way . . .
> 
> x Mochi

**June 1 st, 9:34 am**

 

“Newt isn’t here today,” says Ben without looking up from the coffee he’s making as Minho opens his mouth to speak, “so don’t even bother to ask.”

Minho raises his eyebrows, because he really hasn’t learned how to do that trick where you raise only one, no matter how much he means to do so. “Is it his day off or something?”

“No,” says Ben shortly, and then he does look at Minho. “He’s sick. Called in earlier this morning. Something that’s been going around, I dunno what exactly. I’m surprised you didn’t know that, actually. You guys seemed pretty serious last time you were here.”

“We’re not dating,” says Minho, which is the truth, even if he doesn’t want it to be.

Ben rolls his eyes scathingly. “Yeah, whatever makes you happy. But I _know_   Newt, man. And I know how he looks at people he likes. He hasn’t stopped talking about you since the first day you came in here and ordered a venti macchiato.”

“Really,” says Minho, hoping Ben’s telling the truth.

“Yeah. I mean, I knew he was into guys and all, but he seriously like you. Well, you two look cute together. You kinda balance out, you know?”

Minho laughs a little at this. “You’re awfully interested in our supposed relationship, considering that we’re not even together.”

“Yet,” mutters Ben ominously. “Now go sit down so I can make coffee for you.”

“Oh, that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?” says Minho, putting on his best hurt look. “Well, fine, if that’s all I mean to you . . .” He pouts at Ben, then does go to his table and starts texting Newt while he waits for his coffee, which is the closest thing to salvation he’s found so far (although to be honest, he doesn’t spend much time looking).

 

**From** : Minho

hey

 

**From** : Minho

heard u were sick :(

 

**From** : Newt

yeah sorry about that

 

**From** : Minho

so . . . the kind of sick like no work sick or like no anything sick?

 

**From** : Newt

no work sick :P

 

Ben calls Minho’s name and brings over his coffee (a venti macchiato this time, even if Newt isn’t here, because if what he said was true then Minho is the only reason for continuing that kind of coffee). “I know it’s not really my business,” he says, “but I also think that you would be good for Newt. He’s had some problems, you know? I mean, well, life’s shit, and everyone messes up. But if I find out you’re not being good to him, I swear I’d kick your ass, no questions asked.”

Minho doesn’t smile. It isn’t the right time to do something like that. “If I’m not good to him then you can go ahead. I wouldn’t stop you, man. I’m not like that, anyhow. I swear.”

Ben nods, but he doesn’t look particularly reassured. “Good,” he finishes, then walks away to serve drinks to those two girls from before, and Minho is now ninety nine percent certain that the two of them are together—and he’s happy for them, not jealous, for once.

 

**From** : Newt

I know you probs think I have a good job but tbh my boss sucks and the pay is shite

 

**From** : Newt

probs is cool right

 

**From** : Minho

??

 

**From** : Newt

nevermind

 

**From** : Minho

ok? well i dont suppose theres a chance we could hang out or smthn ltr

 

**From** : Newt

smthn?

 

**From** : Minho

*something

 

**From** : Minho

american text talk :)

 

**From** : Newt

oh ;)

 

Of course he wouldn’t know what stuff like that means—but it makes Minho wonder how different the culture is in Britain (England, whatever) than America. School? Texting? Language? It’s almost as if the two places are entirely different countries or something like that.

 

**From** : Newt

anyway maybe but probs not b/c alby’s demanding

 

Alby, Minho remembers, is the name of the “bloke” with whom Newt is staying while he’s in the country. Minho realises suddenly that he doesn’t know what he’ll do once Newt returns to his home country. Maybe he could go and visit for a semester, do the same kind of thing Newt’s doing now. Unlike Thomas, however, Minho’s never been out of the country, or even out of the state. Sure, he’s an adventurer, but he’s also somewhat frightened of leaving the place he’s been his entire life.

 

**From** : Newt

the whole day has been “no newt you need to stay home” “drink more of this crappy american medicine” “what do you mean you want tea no more tea shut up and stay in bed”

 

**From** : Newt

NO MORE TEA WTF

 

Minho can’t help laughing at the message. It’s so unaccountably British (no, English, he reminds himself) that it could only come from Newt. He’d thought that the entire tea thing was another stereotype, but maybe it isn’t—or maybe Newt’s joking again.

 

**From** : Minho

ur so english

 

**From** : Minho

i got it right see?

 

**From** : Newt

yes hurrah :D

 

Minho smiles at that and drinks his venti macchiato. The entire atmosphere of the room seems calmer somehow, he can’t really explain it, but it doesn’t seem depressing any more. Only plain. The place really is small, and there aren’t that many customers most of the time, but it’s a nice place to hang out.

Minho finishes his coffee, texts Newt again to tell him he’s going to be busy and will get in touch with him later, makes sure he doesn’t have any actually important messages from Thomas (no crucial ones, only a few wondering if Minho’s going to make dinner of if they’re going to actually have food to eat—which is a bit of a sore point, since Thomas loses no opportunity to chastise Minho on his cooking ability or lack thereof) and then walks out of the building.


	13. Chapter 13

**June 8 th, 12:58 am**

 

 **From** : Thomas

hey r u free today 2 skip whatever u have & come have lunch w/ me? gally 2 i guess so bring newt if u want i dont care and gally wont either u no so is it a date?

 

 **From** : Minho

no date dude sorry but im not into u but yeah ok lunch is good

 

 **From** : Thomas

cool i think the coffee shop will be a good place to have lunch u agree?

 

 **From** : Thomas

oh u do? well great how about at 1 b/c also ill have a surprise 4 u ;)

 

 **From** : Minho

yeah im scared of u already

 

 **From** : Minho

sounds great :)

 

Thomas talked so easily about Minho inviting Newt to have lunch, but it isn’t going to be that easy for Minho to just ask him out—because technically, they’ve never been on a date, because you can’t count the times they’ve just hung out in the coffee shop, and Minho isn’t going to hide the fact that he’s scared Newt will say no.

So he decides to play it safe and go with the “blame-it-on-the-best-friend-and-hope-no-one-gets-confused-by-the-whole-thing” approach, since Newt already knows about how annoyingly interfering Thomas can be, and hope that things’ll work out in the end.

 

 **From** : Minho

hey thomas invited me 2 lunch & told me 2 invite u 2 so u wanna come?

 

Then he waits, because again—Thomas is fine with multiple texts, but although Newt’s seemed fine with whatever Minho does so far, Minho doesn’t want to push it right now, probably not ever, not if Newt is anything like he seems to be.

But then his phone buzzes only a minute later (Newt is certainly on top of replying to texts Minho sends him, a category which normally only Thomas is in) and Minho smiles as he reads the message.

 

 **From** : Newt

I thought you didn’t want to sext yet ;)

 

 **From** : Minho

if thats what u want im game but lunch? we meet thomas at 1

 

 **From** : Newt

where?

 

 **From** : Minho

plz dont hate me but thomas said the coffee shop

 

 **From** : Newt

you mean the one where I work, right?

 

(Minho actually doesn’t know, which causes a momentary panic, but then he remembers—this is Thomas he’s talking about, if Thomas wants to have lunch with the probable purpose of setting up Minho and Newt, he’s going to pick that coffee shop for certain.)

 

 **From** : Minho

...yeah

 

 **From** : Newt

ha okay I will be there, is there anything I should worry about?

 

 **From** : Newt

this is Thomas we’re talking about, I mean

 

(Minho thinks briefly how lucky it is that Newt has already comprehended the many complexities of Minho’s best friend and that Newt has adapted to Thomas, because adapting to Thomas is no easy task, but it’s also a very important one if anyone plans on hanging out with Minho—after all, Thomas is a given, in that situation.)

 

 **From** : Minho

he mentioned a surprise so dont wear anything good

 

 **From** : Minho

not that u wont look great ;)

 

 **From** : Newt

flirt =)

 

And then Minho goes to the coffee shop (Newt isn’t working, but that doesn’t mean anything, Minho tells himself) and orders cappuccino from Ben, because he’s not in the type of bad mood that makes him want to drown himself in a venti macchiato like he usually is. Strangely enough, he’s actually not in a bad mood at all.

Thomas and Gally arrive in about ten minutes, smiling at each other (a good sign, one that Minho takes note of, so that he knows how to talk to them) and sit down next to Minho. He picked a different table from his usual one, due to the fact that his normal spot doesn’t have room enough for all of them, and this table has a view of both the door and the counter (a win-win in Minho’s opinion).

Newt walks in the door shortly after Thomas and Gally do; he’s wearing jeans and his white hoodie, which looks great on him; he sits down across from Minho, which is only a little disappointing because Minho was hoping they could at least sit next to each other—isn’t that what you do on a date?—but this way they can look at each other without having to turn too much, and he supposes that’s okay too.

“So Thomas,” says Minho, leaning back in his chair and affixing his best friend with a flinty glare, “what is this surprise of which you speak? Is it something I should be wary of, or is it a good thing?”

“Be wary of it indeed,” replies Thomas wryly. “But I guess it’s good? You’ll understand, Newt won’t, and Gally won’t care.”

“I beg your pardon?” says Newt mildly. “I am fully equipped to handle most things even you could throw at me, you know.”

Minho snorts and Thomas rolls his eyes. “You don’t know me, clearly,” he says happily. “Minho knows better, don’t you, Min?”

“I certainly do,” mutters Minho into his coffee.

Newt looks remotely abashed. “Bloody Americans,” he mumbles, then purses his lips and looks questioningly at Thomas. “Well then, do I at least get to know what this purported surprise is, or do I have to wait like a kid waiting for holidays?”

“Holidays?” asks Thomas. “Like Christmas?”

“Vacations,” correct Minho. He spent a few hours reading up on the subtle but noticeable differences between English and American vocabulary a few days before, which of course stemmed from his interest in culture, not his interest in a particularly English boy sitting across the table from him.

“Ah, yeah. Well, okay then. The surprise. I only learned of it like the night before this one, and sorry I didn’t tell you Minho I was busy so don’t kill me please—anyhow, Newt, Min, Gally, I’m sorry to say . . . my sister is in town, and in fact she’ll arrive any minute now . . .”

Minho rolls his eyes, Gally sighs, and Thomas looks like he’s dreading the arrival of Teresa, but Newt doesn’t seem to grasp the great importance of this announcement. “So?”

“So it’s _Teresa_ ,” says Thomas faintly, but before Newt can say anything else in reply, the door to the coffee shop opens with a faint tinkling of bells and—speak of the devil, Minho thinks—Teresa stalks in.

Minho can say a lot of things about Thomas’s twin sister, either good or bad or something else, but he can’t deny she’s drop-dead gorgeous. Built like model, always impeccably dressed, her long black hair swings around her shoulders as she makes her way purposefully towards them, heels clicking on the floor, loud and noticeable.

“Tom,” says Teresa, bestowing upon Thomas a brief hug and a kiss on either cheek, “it’s lovely to see you again—and oh, Minho!—you look devilishly handsome, it isn’t fair—Gally, always a pleasure—be good to my baby brother, now.” She puts her arm around Thomas’s shoulders; she’s about two inches taller, but that might just be the shoes, heels high enough that they hurt Minho’s feet just to look at (he can’t imagine wearing shoes like that). Standing next to each other, Thomas and Teresa don’t look similar at all. Minho couldn’t be into his best friend’s sister—it would be practically incestuous to even consider such a thing—but he has to admit she’s hot. And she knows it too.

“So anyway,” says Thomas, in a weak attempt to pick up the conversation where it was left off, “my sister’s in town for a few weeks.”

Minho looks at Newt, who’s staring at Teresa in wonderment. It’s a look Teresa must be familiar with; she doesn’t seem to notice, or if she does, she doesn’t show it. Instead, Teresa sits down in Thomas’s chair, crossing her legs and taking a long drink from his cup of coffee (it must be a thing in their family, Minho decides, to take drinks from other people). “This is a cute little place,” she says, looking around the main room. “Do you boys come here often?”

“Well, _Minho_ comes here about every day,” smirks Thomas knowingly, with an infuriatingly obvious look between Minho and Newt.

Teresa looks nonplussed. “Well . . . we all know that Minho loves his coffee.”

“That’s not all he loves,” says Thomas smugly. “Go on, Minho—tell Teresa the real reason you come here all the time—it’s not only the coffee you like, is it, you also—”

“Okay, fine!” snaps Minho, holding up his hands to stop Thomas and deliberately ignoring the look of mingled fear and confusion on Newt’s face. “Confession time—I also like the scones. I just can’t help it, man. They’re so fresh and tasty. And those chocolate ones . . . they taste like _sex_ , Thomas, _honestly_. Now, dude, don’t get me wrong. I didn’t want to tell you . . . but I guess the time has come to come clean. I love scones, Thomas. I really fuckin’ do.”

Teresa looks mildly amused, Newt looks confused, and Gally looks indifferently bored. Thomas is laughing. “That was a thing of beauty, man,” he sighs, wiping his eyes. “What a confession to make. I’ve gotta admit, I always thought it would be the muffins—”

“Yeah, I liked the muffins,” admits Minho, “but it wasn’t the same attraction that it was with those scones. They really _get_ me, man. Muffins just aren’t the same.” He grins slyly at Newt, who winks and mouths “good save” in Minho’s direction.

“All right, boys,” says Teresa, pointing one perfectly manicured finger in Newt’s direction and raising an eyebrow (how is it everyone but Minho can do that?) as she does so. “Who’s this?”

Minho prays that Thomas won’t say anything incriminating, the last things he needs right now is Teresa gushing about his love life, and it’s a well-known fact that she goes crazy over the relationships of her friends and family, and if Thomas says something like that Minho will definitely hit him, even if he’s Minho’s best friend, because he can be _such_ an idiot sometimes—

“This is Newt,” says Thomas, “he’s Minho’s—actually, that about sums it up.”

And Minho leans over and socks Thomas in the jaw.


	14. Chapter 14

 

**June 10** **th** **, 9:43 am**

 

School ends early, for which Minho is thankful. Exam results won’t come in until the middle of summer, so he has time to forget about them. Studying was hell, but now it’s over, and they all have time to relax and work and pretend they’re responsible and don’t need help or each other.

Teresa stays at the apartment, and Thomas starts working different hours at his job (which Minho can never remember what it really is, and from the sound of things, neither can Thomas) in order to spend more time with her (since they don’t get to see each other often) and Minho doesn’t work at all. Not that he does normally, of course.

Thomas’s sister doesn’t work either, but then again she’s never needed to. Thomas’s and Teresa’s family is disgustingly rich, meaning neither of them would ever need to work a day in their lives if they so chose, and when Thomas decided to get his degree in a faraway college none of them had ever heard of and Minho decided to go with him, Teresa stayed at home, didn’t bother to go to college, and earned extra money when she felt like it by modelling or getting in the news by dating some famous person Minho and Thomas has never heard of. Thomas could’ve taken the money his parents offered, but he preferred to “live things his own way,” and that meant without financial support. So he worked, and bought secondhand clothes and textbooks, and cooked ramen for breakfast, and was fine with it.

Teresa, however, is completely lost. She pesters Thomas about living a better life nearly constantly, but Thomas is resolute in his decision. Minho personally would’ve taken the money if he’d been the one offered it, but he has to admire Thomas’s firmness. He’s determined to make his own way, without help.

During the time he and Thomas aren’t watching reruns of their favourite shows or arguing over whether Gandalf or Dumbledore would win in a duel of magic, and when Thomas isn’t catering to Teresa’s needs and trying to convince he that where he and Minho live isn’t an actual slum, just a college town, Minho calls Newt and tries to work up the courage to ask him out on an actual date. He’s increasingly annoyed that he still doesn’t know if Newt is really into him or if the guy is just in the mood for some fun, and what annoys Minho even more is that he’s really starting to fall for the guy—worse than before, when it was all a series of one-night stands that didn’t mean anything. Minho can see himself staying with Newt, not just hooking up and running, and while it’s an unusually weird feeling, it bothers him that he feels that way.

And he doesn’t know how Newt feels about it, and Minho doesn’t have the guts to say something that’s this big of a deal over text or during a phone call, so he gathers what courage he hasn’t spent trying to keep Thomas out of trouble and returns to the coffee shop to talk to Newt fact to face, since Newt is at that stupid place nearly every day, except when he doesn’t want to be there, in which case he’s “sick” and doesn’t come to work.

But today, Minho runs all the way to the coffee shop (he keeps meaning to find out the name of the place, but forgets every time) and sure enough, Newt is behind the counter writing something in a tattered spiral notebook, sitting on the table in back where the actual machines that make drinks are kept. He doesn’t look up at all when Minho walks in, so Minho goes over to the counter to talk to Ben.

Ben looks immensely bored; there’s only one other customer besides Minho, a guy who looks to be a little older than Minho, reading a book with a tree on the cover, and no one’s ordering anything. However, Ben visibly brightens when Minho steps over to him. “Hey, sexy Asian guy,” he exclaims, causing Newt to look up and hastily shut the notebook he’s been writing in.

“Hey, Minho,” says Newt, and although Minho knows he’s said his name before, it’s the first time in a while he’s actually used it in a greeting of any sort. It sounds weird to hear coming from Newt, an unfamiliar sound—the word is right, but the way it’s said is wrong. Not just the accent, but the voice. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but—Minho’s going to shut up now, before he says something stupid.

“Hey, Newt,” Minho says in return, then to Ben, “can I borrow Newt for a minute or is he needed?” He poses the question both rhetorically and sarcastically, knowing Newt isn’t really needed at the moment.

Ben pauses in wiping down the register to look at Minho. “Kidnap him if you will, but if the boss sees, I was never aware of this and had no part in it, guys—I wanna keep my job for a while.”

“Good that,” says Minho automatically—it’s a phrase he and Thomas came up with when they were kids—“I mean, that’s good. I won’t keep him for too long.”

Newt smirks and grabs his notebook, which Minho notices has a small drawing of a cat’s skull grinning in the lower right hand corner. “So the British bloke has no say in the matter, eh? Okay then, fine. Kidnap me at your leisure. I don’t care.”

“The British bloke has _every_ say in the matter,” says Minho, putting his hand on Newt’s arm and leading him over towards the door. He isn’t really sure what he’s going to say, and thinking back it was a stupid idea to come with the plan to confess his feelings like a middle-school girl, but he also knows that if he thought about it he would only decide not to talk to Newt. And he really wants to talk to Newt and define—oh, this is so _stupid_ —what’s going on.

“Okay, what’s up?” asks Newt, confused but still smiling (nervously) and showing no desire to have Minho take his hand off his arm. “Are you really going to kidnap me, because Alby’d be real bloody pissed off and kick your ass if you did, and he’s not a force to be reckoned with—the bloke is like a brick shithouse, that’s what you American lot say, right?”

“I have no idea, but no, I’m not planning on kidnapping you,” says Minho, and now he’s just as confused. “No, no, I meant, I wanted to—oh, fuck it. I don’t know about you, so . . . are you, um . . . you know. Into guys.” And there, he’s said it,  _finally_ , and he hates how much their entire relationship hinges on this one moment, this one answer of Newt’s, what happens if—

Comprehension slowly crosses Newt’s face like a cloud covering the moon and ending up back in the pale sky, speckled with a million freckles that look like stars, and when did Minho get so pathetically romantic? “Oh—am I into—well. Yeah, I guess? I mean, I’m not really, oh, I don’t know, this is bloody  _weird_ to talk about—but I guess so, I’ve never liked girls. So, you know. My friends used to say I was, er, asexual, but I’m  _not_ , I just didn’t see anyone I bloody liked—so I— _oh_ god, this makes me sound like a total arsehole,  _sorry_ —”

“No no no, it’s fine, I didn’t mean to put you on the spot or anything, shit I’m sorry if you thought that,” says Minho, trying to make it clear that embarrassing Newt was never something he was thinking of doing, “only I was, um, wondering—and I wanted to know if you were—well, you know—gay.”

“I guess so,” says Newt, the freckled constellations becoming obscured as he blushes. “I must admit, this was not what I thought you were going to ask me, I was so bloody unprepared for this line of conversation.”

“Sorry,” says Minho again, knowing he must be red as well, only on him it isn’t cute—the downsides of being Asian-American, he thinks bitterly, include obvious unattractiveness whilst blushing.

“Don’t you dare apologise, you bloody irritating American, it’s my fault, shut up,” says Newt almost angrily. “But okay fine, now we’re sharing personal information, well, great, what about you?”

“What about me?” repeats Minho, knowing he’s stalling for time.

“You know, arsehole, your sexual orientation.”

Minho can’t stop from laughing a little. “Sexual orientation, huh. Um, bi, I guess? I mean, I like girls, and I like guys, isn’t that what bisexual means?”

“You’ve dated both chicks and blokes, then?” asks Newt, more curious than jealous.

“Yeah, I have,” admits Minho. He doesn’t mention that most of his purported relationships in the past several years have been one-night drunken hookups that lead to nothing but a walk of shame the next morning and a promise elicited from Thomas never to mention the meaningless sex to any of their friends.

“I’ve dated girls, in high school, only,” says Newt thoughtfully. “I didn’t really know if I was actually gay, you know? I kind of thought I was—actually asexual. Because everyone thought I was, and I didn’t get attracted to anyone. But, well. I guess I was just—whatever.”

“Yeah?” says Minho, somewhat lost for words. “Well, I’m special that way.”

Newt actually laughs, a real laugh, not the forced self-deprecating chuckles that have been all so far. “Okay, special you may be, but humility is a trait you happen to lack, I suppose.”

“You suppose a lot,” Minho points out.

“I suppose I do,” replies Newt, grinning, and he sets his notebook down on the nearest table. “And I suppose, are you going to let me kiss you now or are you going to make me wait, because I sure as shit would like the first option.”

Minho would like the first option too, but before he can say something, the moment is ruined by Minho’s phone ringing, and the screen reads “Thomas,” and as much as Minho would like to pretend it didn’t happen and return his attention to Newt, he knows he has to respond to his best friend, even if Thomas is only calling about something stupid.

“Hold that thought a moment,” says Minho, and answers the call with “fuck you Thomas, do you have to find the worst possible moments in my life to call me and then  _fucking call me_ ?”

Thomas sounds desperate when he speaks, like he’s been crying. “Oh god, Minho, I’m sorry I swear I really am, I just need your help, I just need you to come back to the apartment—please, Minho, do this one thing for me.”

Minho swallows hard and looks up at Newt, who raises his eyebrows questioningly. “I don’t have my car with me, so I’ll be there in fifteen, I promise. Thomas, hey. Listen to me. Fifteen minutes,” and then he hangs up, looking desperately at Newt. “Something happened to Thomas, I can come back later—”

“No, go help your friend, I’m fine,” says Newt pushing Minho’s chest lightly, “and if you do come back I’ll be here.” He pulls Minho towards him and presses a gentle kiss to Minho’s cheek. “I know, okay? Go take care of your friend.”

So Minho does, running as fast as he can, his heartbeat pounding in his chest, and the rhythm fights against itself as if alternates between  _Thomas_ ,  _Thomas_ ,  _Thomas_ , and  _Newt_ ,  _Newt_ ,  _Newt_ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I really like Gally, and I really think he wasn’t a bad person at heart, he just had a whole lot of problems. That being said, in this story he is not a kind character. He does some really mean things, and although he might have the excuse of saying he’s had a similarly tough time, an abusive relationship has no acceptable excuse. Any form of abuse is intolerable, and remaining in a relationship like that is dangerous. Of course, I do have a better ending planned for Gally, but in the meantime know that the way I wrote him here is not a complementary way. Gally is not nice to Thomas, and Thomas is (in my opinion) making a bad decision to stay with him. Draw your own conclusions, of course, but be aware that making Gally unlikeable WAS my intention.
> 
> But I still love him in the original series and I will write him in a nicer way I promise he just needed to be an arsehole for the purpose of this story . . .
> 
> x Mochi


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one that's only texting . . . but this time it's Minho and Newt XP

** June 15 th , 3:47 pm **

 

 

 **From** : Newt

Hi it’s me I’m just making sure you’re okay and got home all right a couple days ago please message me back if you can thanks

 

 **From** : Newt

hey, is everything ok? Text me back when you can, I just wanted to check on you

 

 **From** : Newt

please reply when possible :(

 

 **From** : Minho

hi yes sorry sorry im a horrible person ahh

 

 **From** : Newt

no you’re not don’t be stupid :/

 

 **From** : Newt

but tell me what’s wrong?

 

 **From** : Minho

oh yeah, so....remember that guy who came 2 the coffee shop w/ thomas and me? well hes thomas’s bf and his names gally, hes also a total asshat but....dont tell thomas i said that

 

 **From** : Minho

anyway apparently last nite they had this huge fight and gally really said some mean shit and now thomas is really upset and gally is /such/ a dick

 

 **From** : Newt

yikes

 

 **From** : Minho

yeah thats the word but omfg it was bad, and i mean they fight a lot but this was terrible

 

 **From** : Minho

u shouldve seen it, lots of screaming and stuff it was awful af man

 

 **From** : Newt

I don’t think I would’ve wanted to see it :(

 

 **From** : Minho

no wtf am i thinking

 

 **From** : Minho

thomas and gally have like this fucked up relationship where gallys an asshole and thomas is always sad af and they fight then they make up and gallys nice and protective 4 a while

 

 **From** : Minho

but then it all goes to shit again i mean damn i dont know what 2 do i want 2 help thomas but how tf do i do that idek

 

 **From** : Newt

yeah … I don’t know if you can help, sometimes they need to work it out on their own :(

 

 **From** : Minho

yeah :(

 

 **From** : Newt

sorry :'(

 

 **From** : Minho

no its not yr fault, plz dont b sorry or anything, its mostly b/c gallys an asshole and thomas likes him 2 much

 

 **From** : Minho

i wish he didnt sometimes i mean i want him 2 b happy but not like this u kno?

 

 **From** : Newt

not personally but yeah, I know

 

 **From** : Newt

but sometimes you have to remember people don’t just do stuff for no reason, maybe Gally has his own shite to work out

 

 **From** : Minho

yeah but he should keep tf away from my best friend then >.<

 

 **From** : Newt

I actually

 

 **From** : Newt

no nvr mind

 

 **From** : Newt

(nvr = never?)

 

 **From** : Minho

??

 

 **From** : Minho

nvr is never, yeah but what were you going 2 say?

 

 **From** : Newt

something relating to Gally/Thomas but swear you won’t tell anyone

 

 **From** : Minho

if its something about sex i stopped telling thomas about that years ago

 

 **From** : Newt

I don’t know if I should laugh or be worried

 

 **From** : Minho

both :P

 

 **From** : Newt

okay then … here goes

 

 **From** : Newt

so when I was about 14 I was going through a lot of shite you know, moving around and my dad was a twat and my mum cried a lot

 

 **From** : Newt

my dad would hit her, and me and my baby sister Sonya, I didn’t care about me really but I didn’t want him to his Sonya, she didn’t know what was going on

 

 **From** : Minho

fuck

 

 **From** : Newt

yeah. So when I was 14 my mum took Sonya and left, I was at school and when I got home she was gone and Sonya was gone and my dad was drunk and yelling at me I swear to god it was hell

 

 **From** : Newt

I started screaming “what did you do to them where are they that’s my sister not some random girl” and he grabbed me and told me I would get the same thing and I didn’t know I thought they were dead

 

 **From** : Newt

I was crying and he started hitting me, I was used to that but this was worse

 

 **From** : Newt

when it was over I ran, I ran to the library

 

 **From** : Minho

y there?

 

 **From** : Newt

I loved books, because they ended. There was a way to get to the roof, one of the librarians was m friend. She let me up there and I jumped off

 

 **From** : Minho

wtf

 

 **From** : Minho

u tried 2 kill yrself

 

 **From** : Minho

no

 

 **From** : Newt

I know. It didn’t work.

 

 **From** : Minho

obvs

 

 **From** : Newt

well duh right? But I broke my leg, the bones were shattered because I landed on them. I played football but the doctor said I couldn’t ever do it again, it was that bad. And then my mum came back with Sonya

 

 **From** : Minho

good?

 

 **From** : Newt

she said they had wanted to get me but needed to get out and were coming back in the first place, but I wasn’t at school or at home. So we moved to the city and then I studied abroad every chance I got

 

 **From** : Minho

to get away

 

 **From** : Newt

yes, to get away. From something I can’t really get away from.

 

 **From** : Minho

...wow

 

 **From** : Minho

idk what 2 say

 

 **From** : Newt

you don’t have to, that’s not what I was looking for.

 

 **From** : Newt

all I want is you to be here

 

 **From** : Minho

when did u get so romantic? lol

 

 **From** : Newt

save it until tonight, flirt king ;)

 

 **From** : Minho

ooh thats what she said

 

 **From** : Newt

did I say flirt I meant whore

 

 **From** : Minho

lol

 

 **From** : Minho

oh sorry thomas wants my help making pasta gtg

 

 **From** : Newt

pasta?

 

 **From** : Minho

yeah im a terrible cook long story tell u ltr! hugs

 

 **From** : Newt

hugs :)


	16. Chapter 16

 

**June 20 th, 12:32 pm**

 

Teresa decided fairly soon that Thomas staying in the apartment and playing video games with Minho was not going to work on a long term basis, and so after about a week had gone by, she marched into his room with a determined expression. Minho isn’t sure exactly what happened, but in the end Teresa won and Thomas returned to the outside world with a disgruntled but resigned attitude.

Minho took Thomas’s side on the matter, of course, but secretly he supported Teresa’s point. Thomas _did_   need to continue functioning like a (relatively) mature human. Minho knew only too well that locking himself away from everything would only worsen Thomas’s problems.

So in the end Minho and Thomas found themselves going to the coffee shop again. It seemed to be a suitable place, where the whole thing had began, and besides, Minho knew from the look on his best friend’s face that Thomas needed this. He needed to have a chance to do something on his own.

Minho doesn’t tell Newt to meet them there, because he worries that Thomas won’t be in the mood for that kind of atmosphere, especially considering what’s happening between him and Gally. To be honest, Minho started to expect this explosion quite some time ago, and it was only a matter of how long Thomas and Gally could hold themselves together before everything fell in pieces.

Although he didn’t tell Newt, Newt is still working there, and for Thomas’s sake Minho tells him to find a seat while he gets coffee; he knows Thomas will want a cappuccino as usual, and Minho wants one of those venti macchiatos that only Newt can make.

There’s a new person behind the counter, a girl with long brown hair and big doe eyes, and she practically stares at Minho when he walks up to order. Newt hurries forward with an abashed sort of grin—“She’s new, name’s Rachel,” he whispers—and asks, out of habit, Minho guesses, what Minho would like to order.

Rachel’s still watching them, so Minho decides to make it clear that neither he nor Newt is interested (he hopes). “I think you know what I want,” he says, trying to make his voice seductive.

Newt doesn’t fall for it. “A venti macchiato, then?”

Minho rolls his eyes. “Yeah, sure, Newt. I was totally talking about the coffee.”

Rachel’s eyes get even wider and she scurries over to the coffee machines to take some other guy’s order. Newt sighs, but Minho grins at him. Newt glares. “Minho—”

“Newt?” asks Minho, playing along.

“Please,” says Newt, his voice the same as a concerned parent might use on a troublesome child, “don’t scare the new person, Ben’s trying to train her to work another shift, since it’s really just the two of us, so don’t make her quit—it’s her _first_ _day_ , Minho. C’mon.”

Minho raises his eyebrows, feeling the familiar reminder that he can’t yet raise only one, and reaches across the table to grab Newt’s wrist because forget about Thomas, he wants to focus only on Newt right now. “I won’t scare her, but it isn’t her fault if I like you.”

Newt blushes and drops his gaze, but he doesn’t pull his hand away. “I . . . you still owe me a kiss, you know.”

“I think that would scare the new chick,” breathes Minho.

Newt half-laughs and half-sighs, then smiles. “Well, I don’t bloody care.” He leans forward and presses his lips to Minho’s, then pulls away. “Now, I need to get coffee. To be continued?”

“Absolutely,” promises Minho immediately. The kiss was honestly nothing special—Minho’s kissed plenty of people plenty of times—and what he liked about that particular kiss was not that it was so wonderful but that he could taste the potential in every second of it. It makes Minho long for another kiss, but—but Thomas is waiting for him. Hastily, he returns to the table where he left his friend, but Thomas isn’t there; he’s standing outside the shop, talking on his phone.

“Well, that isn’t my fault,” Thomas is saying, the phone pressed to his cheek, as Minho walks over to him, and Minho’s heart sinks—Gally. “That isn’t what I said . . . Come on, Gally, you know I wouldn’t do that sort of thing . . . I don’t care what he said, I’m not a—no way . . . Gally, please listen to me . . .” His voice is pleading, desperate, begging. “You _know_   that isn’t true! . . . I would never . . . he’s my best friend. Of course I’m going to spend time with him . . . No, don’t be an asshole, Gally, that’s what you always say . . . why is this time any different?”

Minho starts to motion that he can come back later—if Thomas is on the phone and busy then Minho can wait—but Thomas shakes his head emphatically and grabs Minho by the arm to make him stay.

“Yeah, I think you’re right . . . I’ll call you back later, once I get back to the apartment . . . Yes, he is, why do you ask? . . . Well, I don’t care!” says Thomas suddenly, the words like a small but forceful explosion. It startles Minho. “He’s my best friend, I’m not going to stop hanging out with him or talking to him—and that’s final—so don’t even think . . . about—” Thomas stops to catch his breath. “—telling me what I can or cannot do, I’m _not_   your slave, Gally . . . I will call you _later._ Bye.” And then he hangs up, rolling his eyes at Minho.

“What is it this time?” asks Minho, internally running through his mental list of all the times Gally has hurt Thomas and wondering what to add on to that list. He doesn’t know what to expect, even though this has been going on for years.

Thomas sighs and stashes his phone in the pocket of his jeans. “You,” he says wryly. “He thinks I’ve been spending too much time with you—hence the argument, I’m sure you heard—but enough about the tragic drama that is my life,” adds Thomas abruptly, his face brightening, “tell me how things are going with Newt! Details—as long as they’re appropriate, of course.”

Thomas so easily reflects away questions about his own life, Minho thinks to himself as he fills in his friend on what happened after Thomas left the coffee shop to answer that phone call. He is reluctant to answer even simple queries about himself. He rarely complains, and is always quietly resigned to whatever happens. In short, Minho decides, Thomas is too passive while Gally is too active. It had, and still has, the potential to be a good match—but in the wrong circumstances, it could, and would, be a total disaster.

Minho doesn’t want to say it, he really doesn’t want to, but from what he’s been seeing and hearing and observing in general, Thomas and Gally seem to be veering towards the part of the total disaster.

 

***

 

They leave the shop without talking to Newt or anyone else, because although Thomas swears he’s fine if Minho wants to stay, Minho can see the circles under Thomas’s eyes and the red rims around them and he knows that it won’t be a good idea. “I don’t mind,” he lies, because friends are more important.

“As long as it isn’t a problem,” Thomas says, but Minho can tell he’s relieved. Thomas’s hands are shaking as they walk along the pavement (Minho refused to let Thomas drive, and he can pick up the car when he returns to the shop after one of his morning runs) towards the library. A few well-dressed business people stare at Minho and Thomas as they walk, and it annoys Minho. He doesn’t like to be stared at, even if he knows the reason why—the town he lives in is remarkably conservative for such a developed place, even a college town.

“Hey, listen to me,” says Minho, as they pass the library. “It’s never a problem, okay? Dude, you’re my best friend. I might not do anything but I’d do a lot of things for you, which includes knowing when to stop after your boyfriend’s being a possessive asshole and you need help.”

Thomas winces but doesn’t argue, which is a relief. Minho is so tired of listening to all the excuses Thomas has made over the years. In his opinion . . . it’s time Thomas finds someone who’ll treat him better. “Thanks,” he says, barely audible.

“Um, no problem, but don’t think that means I’m gonna bail you out of whatever shit you get into. I mean, I can only do so much, man. You know, be careful then. Don’t, like, kill someone or rob a bank. I don’t think I’d be able to help you then.”

“I dunno, I think Teresa would come up with a shitload of money to write it off,” Thomas points out. They’re stopped just past the library now. Minho can look back and see the brown awning of the coffee shop and the small neon sign in the window. “That’s her favourite thing to do—spend loads of money on useless shit.”

“Thomas, dude, you’re not useless,” Minho says.

“Yeah,” says Thomas faintly, his voice becoming so soft and quiet that Minho can barely hear the word, and he knows that even Thomas himself isn’t convinced of his own worth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said that the whole story would take place in the coffee shop, but I think just outside of it counts too, right? They weren’t THAT far away. And anyhow, I make the rules, so . . . yeah.
> 
> Also, I found my notes for the story idea, and they're funny, so I decided to post them here so you can know what was going through my head when I came up with this idea:
> 
> PROMPT: I’m a barista and you’re the obnoxious customer who comes through and orders a venti macchiato while talking on the phone the whole time so I misspell your name in increasingly creative ways every day AU (Minewt)  
> NOTES: Newt spelling Minho’s name in weird ways because he wants him to notice him, but doesn’t know how to talk to him; Minho on the phone with Thomas the whole time and it’s “minho you can do this just ask his name or something god damn it” “i can’t he’ll think I’m a weirdo” “minho you are a weirdo”; Newt thinking Minho’s talking to his boyfriend and being upset because he likes Minho even when Minho is an asshole which is most of the time; Minho flirting with everyone who buys coffee, but never doing anything serious because secretly he’s scared; then Newt comes up and doesn’t give in to his flirting and hell, Minho’s always liked a challenge; Minho asking Newt if he can buy him a cup of coffee, and Newt freaking out and saying “but I work at a coffee shop” and Minho just laughing and saying “yeah, I noticed”; Newt finally saying yes and Thomas shipping it in the background and Minho’s so happy
> 
> Newt being too shy to talk to people when they get coffee, so he just mumbles “hi can I take your order” and Minho thinks it’s adorable; Minho tries flirting because hey, that’s what he’s best at, but it only confuses Newt; Newt thinking Minho is with Thomas because Thomas is always right next to Minho, so Newt starts thinking Minho’s just leading him on; but he likes Minho anyway even though he knows he shouldn’t so he starts misspelling Minho’s name to make him pay attention; “he spelled it minnow” “well, did you tell him how to spell it?” “what the hell Thomas it isn’t that hard to spell”; Minho not saying anything because he won’t give Newt the satisfaction of knowing he’s got to him; Minho goes to the coffee shop every morning and Newt thinks it’s because he likes coffee (which he does) but really it’s to see Newt because something about that boy draws him back to the same place over and over again
> 
> Thomas ships Minho and Newt right from the start, he tries to tell Minho that it’s perfect “i swear it’s meant to be” “shut up thomas” “im only trying to HELP” “well you’re not helping”; Thomas is having his own problems with Gally (really I’m gonna do more thomally oh what the hell why not) but he still is there for Minho because he never forgot how Minho was there for him whenever he asked; Thomas is a good friend even when his own life is falling apart and he wants Minho to be happy “because you deserve it man, even if we didn’t work out I want you to be happy”; past thominho (?) but they stayed friends after they broke up, because they both knew they weren’t right together and friends is better; Thomas listening to Minho rant about his problems with Newt and not caring that it’s the same shit he’s heard a million times before; not once does Thomas tell Minho “shut up about newt will you” or “i don’t care” or “i have my own shit to deal with leave me alone” because he knows, oh god he knows what it’s like to go through that and he want to help Minho in any way he can and I HAVEN’T EVEN WRITTEN THIS FANFICTION AND ALREADY IT IS GIVING ME THE FEELS LIKE NOTHING ELSE
> 
> Looking back it’s hilarious, because I had the idea almost a year ago now, and only got around to writing it . . .  
> x Mochi


	17. Chapter 17

** June 23 rd , 3:17 pm **

 

Minho goes back the next day to get Thomas’s car, but Newt isn’t working, so he drives home and texts Newt. He gains no response for two days, until the morning when he wakes up to hear Teresa and Thomas fighting in the kitchen and his phone beeping repeatedly to announce the fact that he has a new text message.

Three, actually. Minho reads them as he eats leftover cold spaghetti for breakfast, listening to Teresa and Thomas argue about whether or not Thomas is going to transfer colleges to the one that his family’s been going to for generations.

 

**From** : Newt

hi

 

**From** : Newt

sorry I didn’t text back, Alby’s been a bit weird again

 

**From** : Newt

I’m going to be at the shop around three today if you want to stop by

 

Of course, Minho reasons with himself, there would be a reason that Newt didn’t text him back at once. Not everyone checks their phone as frequently as Thomas does. Not everyone is up for the level of craziness that Minho is currently residing on. He texts Newt back an affirmative, then finishes the spaghetti and leaves before he can get dragged into Teresa’s and Thomas’s discussion—they usually call on him to take a side, and that’s never pleasant when one option is his best friend and the other is Teresa (who is not a force to be reckoned with, unless you’re crazy or you’re Thomas, which is the same thing really).

Minho runs to the coffee shop (which has a name, he’s sure, but after this long going there and not knowing he isn’t about to find out now) instead of driving. He tells himself it’s because he wants to work out more, and build up his endurance, and train so that he can run another marathon like he did the last year of high school, but in reality it’s because his car’s out of fuel and he doesn’t want to drive all the way to the station just to fill up the tank (the station is, unfortunately, several miles farther than anywhere else he regularly goes to).

By the time he arrives, he’s sweating. The weather continues to get warmer no matter how much Thomas moans about it, and the air is thick and muggy. The sun is resolutely bright, and it glares down at Minho as if it came out that day just to spite him.

“Go fuck yourself, sun,” grumbles Minho, looking around to make sure no one spotted him speaking with the sun—it wouldn’t be the weirdest thing he’s done, but he still wouldn’t want to be taken for some creep or something.

Newt’s not working, surprisingly enough, instead he’s seated at the table facing the window with a dangerous-looking black guy who could probably snap Minho’s neck with one hand. Being the kind of person he is, Minho immediately starts wondering who would come out best in a fight. He took self-defence classes in high school, so he knows how to hit, but this guy’s much bigger than he is . . .

Newt looks up when the door bell chimes and smiles happily; the other guy doesn’t look impressed, and Minho scowls at him in a way he hopes is intimidating. Newt seems oblivious as he gives Minho a brief hug. “I didn’t think you’d show up—this is Alby, by the way, the bloke I’m living with for the year.”

“Jesus, Newt,” says Alby; his voice is low and actually intimidating, unlike Minho’s attempt, “you don’t have to go all English on us. Name’s Alby, and I can’t really say it’s nice to meet ya, but Newt’s talked ’bout ya a lot—from that I guess you ain’t as bad as some of ’em.”

“Thanks?” says Minho uncertainly, unsure of how to respond to such a statement. Alby laughs and holds out his hand for Minho to shake; his grip is firm and somehow makes Minho like the guy more.

“Ah, don’t mind me, I’m just worried ’bout Newt here. He’s like my brother, ya know? Been livin’ with my family for years now, ever since his daddy—but did he tell ya the story yet? I don’t wanna be tellin’ you nothin’ you shouldn’t be hearin’.”

“He—he told me,” Minho stammers; the conversation was awkward enough without bringing up Newt’s supposed past. “I mean—not everything, but—well, I don’t know how all of—”

“But anyway,” interrupts Newt, “don’t be such a prick, Alby, this conversation is nothing but sadness, so why don’t we sit down or something and talk? Minho, are you getting anything, or not?”

“Nah,” says Minho, “it isn’t the same without you making them—I’ll be fine without anything for this time.”

Alby glances between them as if trying to work out exactly how long they’ve known each other and how close they are. It’s the kind of look Minho would normally associate with a protective but not unreasonable parent. Alby strikes him as a collected sort of guy, tough on the outside, who must love Newt very much—and anyway, nothing good will come of analysing people like that, so Minho sits down next to Newt, without touching. He has the feeling Alby will pull out a shotgun if they so much as hold hands.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Alby sighs. “So, obligatory questioning. How’d ya meet Newt?”

“Ordered a coffee from him, duh,” says Minho—how  _else_ would they meet when Newt works in a coffee shop and never seems to go anywhere else?—but Alby doesn’t look impressed.

“Well, he doesn’t get out much,” admits Alby.

“I get  _sick_ a lot, not bloody  _dying_ ,” protests Newt. “You’re  _so_ bloody protective of me, it isn’t fair, Alby. You think every lovin’ thing’s going to kill me. I’m  _not_   a baby, you know.”

Alby doesn’t even look remotely abashed, but Minho chokes on a laugh. The expression of determination Newt wears is adorably fierce. It reminds Minho of a kitten trying out its claws, attempting to be ferocious.

“I worry about ya, that’s all,” says Alby in a low voice that Minho interprets as ‘Please, Newt, stop embarrassing me in public next to your supposed boyfriend, because I am a man and need my ego in order to remain existent, even though secretly I care about you more than anything.’ But he could have misinterpreted it a little.

“What about you, Alby?” asks Minho; the name is strange on his tongue. Alby. He’s never heard anything like that. It must be a diminutive of something. “How did you get stuck with Newt?”

“I stole him,” says Alby, with an impressive deadpan face. “He signed up for the exchange student programme, an’ at the time I was still livin’ with my parents, so we looked at his profile an’ all that an’ decided it would work. My sister went to England, and Newt came here.”

“His sister’s back here now, her name’s Harriet,” Newt explains. “After col—high school, I stopped the whole exchange student thing, and just studied abroad. Well, I want to be a biologist. So I got a free rein kind of thing in that case, since I’m not in university yet. I mean  _college_ . Whatever. It doesn’t make a difference what I call it.”

The word doesn’t escape Minho’s notice. “Biologist, huh? Me too. Weird coincidence,” he says, even though he doesn’t believe in coincidences. “I’m getting my major in Biology—or I will be if I don’t fail all my classes.”

So much for impressing Alby.

“I’m not in college,” says Alby, ignoring Newt’s look of apprehension. “Got my degree ’bout a year ago, ain’t got a thing done with it since. Mostly I take care of this guy,” and he whacks Newt affectionately on the head.

Newt crinkles up his nose, which could go many ways but succeeds in making him rather adorable. “Yeah, and I swear he looks tough, but he’s just a giant ball of fluff once you get to know him. Bloody hilarious.”

“Yeah, yeah,” says Alby dismissively, but he lets a smile creep across his face, and it makes him transform from Newt’s frightening bodyguard into someone you’d want to be around. “Newt here likes his little joke.”

“I do like you,” says Newt, and Minho fist-bumps him in acknowledgement. Alby scowls and tries to be strict, but then starts laughing as well. And Minho finds that Alby isn’t that bad, and if the rest of Newt’s friends—he doesn’t dare think about family, not yet—are anything like Alby is, then Minho certainly wouldn’t dislike them, not at all.

So he does what he always does when he’s in a situation that he hasn’t been in before, which includes meeting his (apparent) boyfriend’s best friend/host family, and texts Thomas.

 

 **From** : Minho

so newts bff is this scary guy im frekin out

 

 **From** : Thomas

*Newt’s

 

 **From** : Thomas

*I’m

 

 **From** : Thomas

*freaking

 

 **From** : Minho

dick :P

 

 **From** : Thomas

no sexting now u HAVE a bf shut up :D

 

Of course, Minho thinks, Thomas would have ruin the moment—he always does. Minho rolls his eyes and puts the phone away, returning his attention to the conversation. Alby’s just said something, and they’re both looking at Minho expectantly. He shakes his head and blinks. “Sorry, didn’t catch that, what?”

Newt covers his laugh with his hand. “Minho’s always on his phone, Alby, you’ll have to get used to that if you hang out with him any more than just a casual meeting in my workplace.”

“Okay whatever,” grumbles Minho, annoyed at how true Newt’s point is. “I’m not _always_ on my phone, just . . . ninety per cent of the time, I guess. Shut up!” he adds, as both Newt and Alby start laughing. “Both of you shut up!”

“I don’t know, man,” says Alby, smiling, “but I like ya, more than I probably should. So then that’s it. Be good to Newt now.”

“Well, duh,” says Minho, reaching over and finally, finally taking Newt’s hand in his own. Newt smiles and squeezes Minho’s hand, his fingers moving over Minho’s skin. It feels comfortable and familiar, which Minho knows sounds weird because they’ve never held hands before, but it’s how he feels. “I’m not planning on doing anything bad to him.”

“Good,” say Newt and Alby at the same time, their voices different in lilt and inflection, but the word is exact. Minho repeats the word, echoing it, and hoping impossibly longingly that it will remain true.


	18. Chapter 18

 

**July 2 nd, 8:59 pm**

 

“Hey, Thomas, it’s Minho. I mean, you probably know it’s me, like who else would be calling you? Ugh, forget I said that, lame and lame and lame. Call me back when you can, dude. Okay? Thanks. Tell Teresa I said hi when you get a chance to.”

***

“Thomas, hi, did you get my message? Call me back when you can. I got shit to tell you.”

***

“It’s Minho, call me back when you can, okay? When do you and Teresa get back?”

***

“Hey, Thomas, what’s wrong—normally you call me back right away—I mean, when you can—oh shit, never mind. I’m just . . . worried about you, that’s all. God, that sounds stupid. But please, call me back.”

***

“Hi, it’s Minho, calling to check on you. Are you still over at Clint and Jeff’s? Tell Teresa I said hi and call me back when you can, I wanna talk to you. And make sure you’re okay. Bye.”

***

“Thomas, this is really starting to worry me, why haven’t you called me? Is something wrong? Dude, please just call me back. Tell me it’s just because your phone’s dead or something—anyway, please call me.”

***

“Minho? Hello?”

“Oh god, Thomas, what the _hell_ were you thinking? Did you get my voicemails?”

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

“Sorry? What _happened_?”

“The party’s still going on, and Teresa’s a total party animal, you know, so she’s chatting with everyone and she’s also my ride, so I can’t get home . . . Jackson stole my phone a while back and wouldn’t let me call you, so that’s why I didn’t until now.”

“Shit, and I thought something really bad had happened to you, Thomas, that wasn’t funny. Did you tell Jackson?”

“He’s right next to me, so you can talk to him if you— _Jackson, Minho wants to talk to you_. Okay, Minho, here he is. Go easy on the guy, please, I don’t want him to get killed.”

“I wouldn’t kill anyone unless they would—Jackson? Oh, hey, man. How’s it going? And what the fuck were you thinking?”

“Oh, c’mon Minho, don’t be like that. I don’t know what’s wrong, man, I was just tryin’ to get Thomas to have some fun—without bein’ on his phone the whole time—you know he’s always on that thing, Minho, really. I didn’t mean to do anything wrong.”

“Okay fine, dickhead, give me back to Thomas—okay, hi Thomas. How’s the party?”

“Oh, it’s totally terrible, but you know Teresa—she had to drag me to at least one of these. And I guess Clint and Jeff aren’t too bad, I mean, they’re cool, but I’m not really the kind of guy who goes in for that kinda stuff, y’know?”

“Yeah, you’re weird that way. Is Teresa having fun at least?”

“Is she ever. I swear, that woman is made to draw attention. During the first hour we were here she had about a dozen guys all over her, but she pulls out the sister card and claims she’s only here for her baby brother—which doesn’t make them leave her alone, of course.”

“She’s cool though, you gotta admit. And she really does like you. She just has a weird way of showing it . . . which includes dragging you around to random parties.”

“Yeah. By the way, you should be by my side, suffering next to me like the best friends and since-fourth-grade blood brothers we are. Jerk.”

“I told you, I had to work.”

“Min, you never work.”

“Okay, maybe I said that to make Teresa leave me alone. But really, I need some time by myself.”

“Right, some time to yourself, without Teresa and me at the apartment. And by any chance did that time alone include going to a certain coffee shop to see a certain barista?”

“Um, maybe. Okay, yes. But I have an excuse.”

“I bet. You always do. Remember Frankie’s birthday? Seventh grade?”

“How could I forget? You ended up in the hedge covered in icing and streamers with half a bookshelf stuck to your head and watermelon rinds in your hair.”

“Which was _your_ fault, because you should’ve known that the fence wouldn’t hold! But oh no, you went all innocent-looking and ‘Oh, we were just playing tag and it got out of hand. It wasn’t his fault, not really.’ It totally convinced the hell outta everyone there. Your fault for being adorable in middle school. So what’s this excuse?”

“Well, I can tell you now I won’t ever come up with something as good as the one I used at Frankie’s party. Didn’t I say some—hold on, hold on, I— _leave me alone, I’m on the phone! No, I’m talking to Thomas. I’ll talk to you later—later!_ Okay, I’m back. What were you saying?”

“Who was that?”

“Ben.”

“Ben, as in the guy who works at the coffee shop? The one with gorgeous eyes?”

“My best-friend danger senses are tingling.”

“Dude, you’re not Spiderman.”

“Yeah? But I know enough to say that you should _stay away from Ben_ before something bad happens to you.”

“Min, I just ended my many-years-long relationship with the guy I’ve been with since sometime in high school. We went down in an epic fight which would only be rivalled by the Battle of the Five Armies. I have spent the past week or two sobbing my eyes out over something I shouldn’t even care about. So don’t tell me how to live my life, and don’t warn me of bad things that might or might not happen to me.”

“No, Thomas, it isn’t about you, it’s just . . . Ben isn’t interested.”

“Well, _duh_! Neither am I. I need some single time for a while. I was only saying Ben had quote-unquote gorgeous eyes because it’s something Gally said the one time he saw him and was trying to make me jealous like the ass he is.”

“That makes no—wait one motherfuckin’ minute, did you just say Gally liked Ben? Tell me you did not just say that.”

“Calm down, Minho, I didn’t say that. I said that Gally said Ben had gorgeous eyes the one and only time he saw him in the coffee shop while he was trying to make me jealous like th—”

“Okay, stop. I don’t want you to repeat yourself. And I don’t want to talk about Gally.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

“Good. We need to talk about something good . . . that isn’t related to Teresa.”

“How is anything good related to _Teresa_? Oh, I know—how about we talk about how things are going between you and Newt? Last I heard, you were meeting his best friend or whatever. Was he nice? You’re not dead or severely injured, so that’s better than how things went with Beth.”

“Don’t mention Beth, I still have the burn marks. Um, we’re fine, I guess. He’s really nice, and he’s also studying to be a biologist. His friend, Alby, wasn’t bad either—kind of tough, but sweet once you get to know him.”

“Have you guys kissed any more since that one time?”

“Uh, well, not really. It’s been, maybe about a week? We haven’t discussed dating officially or anything like that, and I haven’t seen him outside of the coffee shop—by the way, does that place have a name?”

“If it does, I have no idea what it would be. I don’t pay attention, Min, you should know that by now. We’ve been friends for what, ten years? I don’t know how long. I stopped keeping track. So no more kissing . . . hand-holding? Hugging? Talking about romantic stuff? I don’t know, what do you people do?”

“We held hands a little, and hugged once or twice. No talking, I already said that, right? And I don’t know what we do, either, I’m pretty new to this too. I mean, I’ve dated girls, dude. But it’s a lot different.”

“I wouldn’t know, I’ve never dated any girls, and I’ve only dated one guy.”

“Yeah, about that . . . I don’t want you to hate me, man, but I think Teresa has kind of the right idea, trying to get you to get out more. I think it’s good for you, to learn that Gally isn’t the entire world. There are other people, other things, other places.”

“I know, Min. I really do. I just think . . . I wasn’t ready to accept that.”

“Well, I can understand. I think I have the same problem.”

“Honestly? I think we all do.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUESS! WHO! FINALLY! FOUND! HER! FREAKING! FLASH DRIVE! WITH! ALL! HER! MAZE! RUNNER! AUS! ON! IT! (Hint: MEEEEEE!!!)
> 
> I will be back to updating this story, yay!! I wrote a lot more of it, but it needs A LOT of editing, so it'll still take a while. But MOCHI IS BACK WITH TMR AUS, NEVER FEAR! I will write and rewrite and everything in between :)
> 
> Tumblr: saraven2  
> x Mochi

**July 18 th, 3:19 pm**

 

(Minho wakes up and immediately rolls over to check his phone; so maybe he _does_ have a bit of an obsession, but hey, he can’t really help it. He has three missed calls from Thomas—of course—an email from Teresa—probably about Thomas—and two texts from Newt—make my day—which he looks at first.

 

 **From** : Newt

Hey, I haven’t heard from you in a while, so I wanted to check on you. Is everything okay? Is Thomas all right?

 

 **From** : Newt

If possible, please meet me at the coffee shop around three today. I want to talk.

 

But that’s really all, and although he’s worried it’s a breakup line, he goes anyway.)

 

***

 

Ben is working again (does the guy ever get a break?) and Newt is leaning against the counter, talking to him. He’s in the white hoodie and jeans, simple but stupidly attractive. Minho hates how easily he’s attracted to something to casual—normally he goes for the hot, sexy, skimpy look.

Maybe there’s something different about Newt, then.

Newt turns around when the doorbell chimes and a grin lights up his face. Minho feels like an idiot for thinking it would be a breakup line. They aren’t even together—you can’t use breakup lines unless you have to relationship with which to break up.

“Hey, sexy Asian coffee guy,” Ben calls out, and Minho gives him a wave, although his attention is focused on Newt.

Newt leans back against the counter, smiling. “Well, long time no see, Min.”

“Min?” It’s Thomas’s nickname for him, and it’s strange in Newt’s mouth. Not in a bad way, though. “Cool. I like it. What’s up?”

Newt’s smile gets wider. “Not the best thing to ask.”

Minho actually blushes. “Beating me at my own game, huh? I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

“Other than my obvious sexiness,” Newt jokes. “And my irresistible ability to make you look like a dork. Not that I need much help, because you’re already dorkish, but I kinda make it better, you know?”

“Yeah, you do. So why did you text me?”

Newt shrugs. “Didn’t the texts say enough? I wanted to talk. Can we go, outside or something? Somewhere private.”

Minho doesn’t reply with “that’s what she said,” although he wants to do it. “Uh, absolutely, yeah,” he says, not caring if he sounds a bit too eager, “yeah, let’s go outside.”

They walk to the front of the coffee shop. There are a few chairs, but they’re all empty; Minho doubts anyone would be there at this time of day anyhow, since even lunch break is over. He slouches against the wall, shoves his hands in his pockets, and raises an eyebrow at Newt. “So?”

“So, yeah,” Newt says. “I didn’t want to say this through text, but . . . we aren’t officially together, are we?”

“Not unless you want to,” Minho says quickly. Curse his stupid brain and emotions.

Newt nods and shakes his head, respectively. “Oh, I’m an idiot. Anyway, yeah. I know it’s been a couple months, and I’ve knows you for a while, and . . . I just wanted . . . to know if we were. You know, together. Because I kind of really want to, but I don’t know if for you it’s gonna be another one-night stand, and I don’t want to be just another memory of a summer fling, so . . .”

Minho’s shut people up by kissing them many times before, boys and girls, all sorts. But he doesn’t think this would be a good time. He holds up his hand and makes a shushing motion. “No, no, no. I wouldn’t do that.”

“Okay, I’d like to think that,” Newt says quickly, his face a burning red, “but I don’t know if I can trust—”

“Of course you can trust me!” It hurts, how bad those words make him feel. He wants to make it up somehow, to prove he wouldn’t leave, to show Newt that he’s better than that. “I mean it, Newt. I wouldn’t do that. I only do that to people I don’t love, and I . . .”

Oh shit, and of course it would end this way; it’s too soon to say he loves Newt, but he can’t see a way to back out of the stupid trap he’s gotten himself into, he can’t see one at all. Newt looks even worse.

“I didn’t want this to go like this,” he says quietly, looking down at his shoes. Grey sneakers, with white laces. “I just wanted to say . . . I want to date you, to be together, whatever. I don’t know how this works. You’re much more experienced than I am. But I want to try.”

“Well, fuck,” Minho says, strangling the part of him that wants to leap up and shout for joy.

A wicked look crosses Newt’s face, and stays there. “Not in public.”

“At least kiss me,” Minho says swiftly, glad that his flirtatiousness has not abandoned him. Not yet. “There’ll be time for, ah, other stuff later. You know, when we’re not in the middle of the open and everyone can see. I don’t like sharing much.”

Newt rolls his eyes, but he leans forwards and kisses Minho, his eyes closed. It’s a real kiss, not the chaste brushing of lips they’ve shared before, but the real thing. Minho pushes forwards and pulls Newt into him, parting his lips and deepening the kiss, rewarded when Newt gasps and starts laughing. “Good enough?” Minho mumbles against his mouth, opening his eyes briefly and cocking an eyebrow.

Newt pulls away and pokes Minho on the nose. “Shut up.”

 

***

 

 **From** : Minho

well hey thomas guess whaaaaaaaat

 

 **From** : Thomas

WHAT

 

 **From** : Minho

whats w/ the caps

 

 **From** : Thomas

nothing

 

 **From** : Thomas

howd it go?

 

 **From** : Minho

fine. what happened 2 u?

 

 **From** : Thomas

NOTHING I SAID

 

From: Minho

my best-friend senses detect bs

 

 **From** : Thomas

yeah. did u kiss newt? normally u only text me if u kissed newt or smthn improtant happended 2 u

 

 **From** : Minho

dude whats with the spelling

 

 **From** : Minho

but yeah, i did. holy shit i did :D


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We-ell, they made it through July . . . sorry to say there will be trouble brewing on the horizon, but it will (most likely) end on a happy note. Stay tuned (and if my terrible music puns are anything to go by, it should be interesting).
> 
> You lot = the best!!!, and the continued support I get means the world to me. When I thought I was going to be unable to continue this story, the amount of positive feedback and pleas and helpful supportive comments flooded in, and although I cannot personally thank each and every one of you, this is my heartfelt message to do the best I can. I am truly honoured to have you all here with me and those irreplaceable dorks.
> 
> x Mochi

**July 19 th, 3:14 am**

 

“Hello?”

“Hey, this is Newt. Who is it?”

“Hi, Newt, it’s me, Minho. Do you have time to talk?”

“Minho—what—it’s three in the morning.”

“Yeah, I know. Do you have time to talk?”

“Um, I guess so. As long as Alby doesn’t wake up and hear and start yelling at me. Again. He’s a bit, ah, possessively stern when it comes to my bedtime. Almost like a real mama or something.”

“I believe you. No waking up Alby then. Um, I . . .”

“What?”

“No, I just . . . shit. I don’t know, I just wanted to talk to you, I . . . I don’t know. I was looking at my contact list and there was really no one else I could call except you, and I just wanted to talk to somebody . . .”

“I’m flattered, of course, but what about Thomas?”

“Oh—to be honest? He’s been a bit weird. He keeps saying he needs ‘some single time’ and talks about how Ben has gorgeous eyes.”

“Ben? As in the bloke who works at the shop? That Ben?”

“Well, he doesn’t know any others . . . Yes! It’s weird. I mean, he and Gally broke up, and I think this time it’s gonna be for good. It kinda sucks, because they’ve been together forever, but now . . . Thomas is weird, and I didn’t want to wake him up.”

“Is Teresa still with you guys?”

“She leaves the day after tomorrow. Thomas and I are gonna go with her to catch her flight so she can bemoan his fate and remind him to eat his vegetables. She’s basically his mom, since their real parents are dead—it’s them and their baby brother. No, he’s not a baby, he’s in high school now . . . I keep forgetting.”

“What’s his name?”

“Chuck. He’s—yeah. He’s cool. He’s a sweet kid, and I hate how his life is. I mean, he lives with Teresa. It could be worse, but not by that much.”

“Teresa seems okay.”

“She’s great, really, but sort of an, ah, acquired taste.”

“I really hope you don’t mean that literally.”

“No—of course not—sorry. No, if there’s one thing I don’t do, it’s cheat. I always break up before I go with someone else. That does mean it ends over text or IM or phone or even email a lot, but at least I have the honest decency to notify.”

“I’m reassured.”

“You should be. What about you?”

“I’ve never really—been in a relationship. You know, I told you the whole speculation my stupid friends came up with . . . that I was asexual, right. I guess I’m not, just kind of . . . not. Interested. In dating. Yeah.”

“Well, I can’t say I empathise, but I sympathise. So am I the first?”

“Don’t act all bloody proud of it, prat. And, for the record, no. There were a couple girls, back in coll—high school, mostly birds my friends set me up with, dares, that sort of thing. Nothing serious. I don’t know if anything can be, in high school.”

“Thomas and Gally were, but that’s . . . over. Shit, this is so weird. I don’t know, Newt. I think I just wanted to talk, and to get it off my chest . . . there’s been a lot going on, and I’m not thrilled about next semester either.”

“Why not?”

“You’re a good listener, by the way—I had some classes I was kind of failing. No, I failed them. A lot. I think my grade point average was a two point something? Anyway, it was terrible. There was this one teacher, Professor Paige, who basically told me to straighten my shit up or drop out. Well, she told me not to drop out. But you know.”

“Oh. Did . . . did it help any?”

“A bit, I suppose. I’ve never been good in school. The thing is, I really want to be a biologist after this. I just have a problem with getting there. You said you wanted to be a biologist too, right?”

“Yeah, I did. The programmes in America are a lot different though.”

“Huh. Anyhow, Professor Paige hates me. Thomas doesn’t believe it, but she . . . she’s never liked me. I guess it’s because she wants serious students, and I try, most of the time, but I think sometimes that I’m not smart enough to be . . . in the field, I mean. Yeah.”

“Okay, first of all, shut up. You—”

“I sense a lecture brewing.”

“You missed my first point: Shut up. But yes. Second of all, no fucking way. From what I’ve seen, and I’ve known you for a while now, you’re deadly smart. Maybe you can’t be perfect but that’s—”

“Watch your mouth, I _am_ perfect.”

“Oh, of _course_ you are. Shush. Maybe you can’t be perfect but that’s fine. You’ve dealt with Thomas for a long time, and don’t even try to say that doesn’t take skills, right? You’re consistently on top of things, even if you don’t do everything. You’re a perfectionist, Minho. That’s the problem. Not that you’re a terrible student.”

“Thanks, but no. I mean I am a perfectionist, but I also am a terrible student.”

“Maybe, but that’s _because_ you’re a perfectionist! I think, and this is just my opinion, but I’m smart so you should listen to me, that maybe if you stopped trying to do everything, you could do better.”

“It’s hard to do that, though.”

“I know, believe me. I know.”

“I . . . okay. Okay, yeah. Okay. Hold on a minute, I’m kinda in . . . okay. Never mind, it’s okay. I just needed a moment.”

“I would ask if you were okay, but I think that word has had more than it’s fair share of use during the past few seconds.”

“God, you’re such a smartass.”

“Newt is fine.”

“That’s cliché but still funny. I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

“Other than my irresistible face?”

“And your adorable freckles.”

“Ugh, flowery complements. You sound like a horticulturist! Maybe you should work in a flower shop instead of in the field of biology. I think that would suit your personality better.”

“I wouldn’t need grades, that’s for sure. But although it would be a wonderful alternate universe, right—we could open up a flower shop or something and make fun of badass biker dudes with cute girlfriends and drink too much coffee and travel a lot—I don’t think I’m cut out for that industry.”

“Nah, me neither. Although, badass biker dudes? Seriously?”

“Oh, it was the first thing I though of, okay?”

“Please stop using that word, it’s starting to annoy me.”

“Okay.”

“Shut up.”

“Okay.”

“You’re such a dork.”

“Well, so are you.”

“I know, but you’re the one who doesn’t know when to stop being a flirt and mind his own goddamn business and yeah, maybe that made me like you, but honestly, you can be a prick sometimes. In the best possible way of course.”

“Love you too! I mean—unless you don’t want—I mean—you don’t have to—to be—”

“Seriously? Shut up. You don’t need to start getting flustered. I love you, too.”


End file.
